


Welcome to the Circus

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: A Nolanverse take on Harley Quinn, F/M, Heath Ledger - Freeform, Inspired by The Harlequin, Nolanverse, The Dark Knight Rises is null and void
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-12-24 15:44:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Here's what I think, Dr. Quinzel...you stick yourself in these drab, grey little boxes and force yourself to abide by all these rules. You keep your head down, you haven't really allowed yourself to let loose...you're suffocating to appear normal...but you're not. You're not.""You don't know me.""Actually, Harley...I think I know you better than anyone else here."Dr. Harleen Quinzel: a picture of professional success. Rising from nothing to take on a cruel world. She has something prove, she has to be the best. That's why she takes on an impossible case: The Joker. What happens when a rubber band is stretched too tight? Simple....It Snaps.





	1. Send in the Clown

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the Dark Knight Trilogy, but let's just assume Dark Knight Rises never happens, or at least not for a long while.
> 
> It was also inspired by another fanfiction written by knit_wear called The Harlequin, and I recommend you check that out. 
> 
> Moving on, I love the Dark Knight so much, and Heath Ledger's Joker, just perfection. I really wanted to write about a Nolanverse Harley Quinn amongst other Batman villains like Riddler, Penguin, Poison Ivy and Catwoman. Plus, an actual Robin that's not John Blake.

> ** _Bruce Wayne donates $12 million to Arkham Asylum._ **
> 
> _After last summer's capture of the terrorist known as _The Joker, _Bruce Wayne donated twelve million dollars of funding to Arkham Asylum recently after it was announced the terrorist was too unstable to stay in Blackgate prison. The money will be used to increase research, security and rehabilitation. A statement from Mr. Wayne explains, "It's about time we start seeing results at Arkham, and Wayne Enterprises will gladly help fund it's research and medicine. Especially now that the psychopath terrorist is being held there. The asylum must be on the top of it's game to combat such a deplorable man." _
> 
> * * *
> 
> _New employee, Dr. Harleen Quinzel praised on break through with patient Betty Hally. Is this a new page for the Asylum?_
> 
> _More on pg.3_
> 
> * * *

Dr. Harleen Quinzel sat at the coffee shop and grinned as she looked down at the newspaper before her. They wrote an article about her!

She quietly sipped her latte as she flipped to page three to read her story. It was vague, much to her disappointment and relief due to their _no leaking _policy. However, stories like this were too good to withhold from the public. Ms. Hally had been stubborn, but so was Harley. She smiled in remembrance. The old woman had gone cuckoo for Coco puffs after falling through the cracks of the system when her husband died.

She suffered from Persecutary delusions, which meant she believed people were targeting her. She had been so caught up in this narrative she had forced on herself, her paranoia, that she had murdered her landlord. She had been convinced that he had been the one to murder her husband and was after her now. Her husband, of course had not been murdered, he had died of a heart attack. Dr. Quinzel had helped Ms. Hally admit that, and it was a break through! It wasn't really that hard either. The old woman was dying to receive an ounce of sympathy and understanding. 

It was very fortunate Harley had been there when she needed. Harley was, of unspoken knowledge, the first of the Arkham staff to actually get through to one of their cases. She glowed with pride. Maybe Arkham would turn a new leaf. She doubted that. Arkham had too bad of a reputation, and too boring of a prison cast. 

Oh Arkham. Boring, problematic Arkham. She was promptly reminded she had to get on with her commute. With an inward groan, she tucked her newspaper under her arm, picked up a brown bag and grabbed her coffee, before making her way to the station for the elevated train. 

In contrast to the weary, brown and dirty souls packed in the train, the doctor was clean, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. She swayed as the train rattled along the tracks, gripping the handles suspended from the ceiling.

Her thoughts wandered as she stared out the window. Today was going to be an eventful day. The man who had terrorized Gotham last year was being admitted to Arkham Asylum that morning. The Joker. Harley had tried to ignore the news stories about him during his Reign of Terror. She had believed people were fueling his fire by paying so much attention to him. However it was hard to ignore something when hospitals were blowing up. After that, she had paid more attention. A lot more attention. In the end of it all, she had deduced he was a definite psychopath. His lack of empathy, and his antisocial behavior proved that. However, when she watched his videos and read his news stories, she also knew there had to have been something more. He definitely wasn't like some of the other insane personalities in Arkham. He caused a lot of problems at Black Gate, but he had eventually faded out of everyone's memory until it announced he was being transferred. 

People treated him like a mad god, a demon that couldn't be stopped or reasoned with. Harley knew though, that he was just a man. A psychopathic man.

Whatever his motality was, his arrival at the asylum would certainly shake things up. Maybe put a wrench in the monotony of it all, if he was as terrible as people said. Some little part of her hoped he was. 

The train's passengers thinned out the further it delved into the city, until eventually Harley was the only one left. No wonder. The Narrows was the worst place to be in Gotham city. The fact it existed spit in the face of compassion, or anything good at all. It was a cesspool of impoverished people and crime. It's little isolated island was a convenience to the cops and local government. A containment. It was even worse that an asylum stood right in the center. The train slowed to it's stop in the Narrows and Harley slid out. 

She pulled her silver scarf over her head and tightened her blanche white overcoat. The crisp autumn air tugged at her as she kept her eyes peeled for any dangerous predators lurking in the shadows. 

A street vendor. A scantily clad woman. A group of men leaving a sports bar. A mother and her child entering a Bodega. Her heart went out to these people. These people society had turned its back on and forced onto a desolate island. It was unfair...

She shook her head and brushed a strand of blonde hair back under her scarf as her flats padded along the cracked sidewalk. _Just keep your head down, _she told herself. She repeated this to herself many times. At work or on the streets...there was very little she could do about it anyway. Just do her job and keep her head down. She did it very well. 

Soon enough she was at the wrought iron gates of Arkham Asylum. The front of the building was comically gothic, but new infrastructure had been added recently, making it a startling contrasting and conflicting building. Almost as conflicted as the patients inside of it.

Harley showed her ID to the guard outside in the toll booth and he let her in. A few security officers were standing outside, enjoying cups of coffee before the admittance of Gotham's infamous terrorist. 

"Good morning Dr. Quinzel!" Called an officer as she passed. She smiled at him and pulled her headscarf down. 

"Good morning Officer Cash," she chirped. He stalled, his fellow security guards grinning at him and her. She smiled awkwardly. 

"Did you read the paper? You're getting attention," he said, following her into the Asylum. The front lobby was dark just as it's gothic outside alluded to. It's floor was carpeted and the walls had rose wallpaper that twisted and climbed up to the ceiling. It had once been a cushy setup for patients, but now it was reserved for office space, meeting rooms and a general escape for the doctors that were plagued with troubled personalities every single day. The patients were kept in the newer corridors. 

Harley looked at Cash and smiled in remembrance of her newspaper article. She had another session with Betty today. Betty was a nice break from the violent men that yelled at her and threatened to rape her or worse. Betty was just a paranoid old woman with a love of knitting. 

"Yes, I read it," she replied. Cash grinned and nudged her. Harley clicked her tongue with a hint of enduring annoyance with her colleague. 

"Careful Harleen, you keep it up they'll assign you to the harder cases they can't crack," he warned playfully. She frowned at this. What was he implying? 

"What do you mean by that?" She asked defensively. Did he just imply she was given _easy _patients? 

"I mean...if you keep up the success they might assign you to people like Victor Zsasz, or—" 

"Oh God, Victor Zsasz is one of the most boring inmates, he's just like every other two bit pony. Woman bad and all that. And maybe I should be assigned to the harder cases. No one seems to be able to do anything around here. In fact, I think most of these so called doctors are ridiculously incompetent. Don't you think it's a little concerning when our own doctors fly off the handle? They're lucky they have me," She barked, now feeling attacked. Cash sighed in response. 

"Yes, I too am extremely humble," he murmured. Harley shot him a poisonous look, but sighed. He hadn't meant anything by it. He was probably just concerned about her wellbeing. Cash was like that. They were lucky to have him on the staff. 

"Sorry," she muttered. Cash shook his head and shrugged. 

"It's ok. You're a good doctor...I'm just worried they'll throw you to the lion's den. What with the Joker being admitted and all. It's obvious you're at the top of your game and," she cut him off with a wave of her hand. 

"Cash, it's touching you care so much, but you should stop worrying about me. I'll see you later?" She asked as she came to her office. He nodded and with that, the two parted ways. 

Harley entered her office. Drab, grey, just like how she presented herself to the world. Her desk was pristine and organized, not a pencil out of place, just how she left it. She sat down and began to type up a report for Betty Hally. She turned on the tape recorder and listened over their past session. 

> _Hello Betty, how have you been holding up? _
> 
> _I've been good dearie, thank you for asking._
> 
> _Mhm. Have you been taking your medication? _
> 
> _..._
> 
> _Betty, you know why you need to take your medicine. Is there something wrong with it? _
> 
> _It's just, it's poisoned. _
> 
> _Why would it be poisoned Betty? _
> 
> _I know it's poisoned. I don't want to take poison. _
> 
> _Betty, you're in a safe place. Whoever you thought was after you isn't anymore...if you want me present when you take your medication, I will gladly stand witness. _
> 
> _...How do I know it's not you? _
> 
> _Hm. Betty, you know why you're here, don't you? _
> 
> _They say I'm a raving Looney. _
> 
> _Do you know why? _
> 
> _..._
> 
> _It's because you have a Persecutary delusional illness. That means your brain makes you believe in things that aren't reality. Such as your medication that is supposed to help curb this paranoia being poison instead...Betty, you and I both know you are not the kind of person who belongs here. You belong at home with your grandchildren. _
> 
> _I do miss my grandchildren. _
> 
> _What happened to your husband? _
> 
> _He was murdered. _
> 
> _Your husband suffered from cardiovascular disease. Do you remember the hospital visits? _
> 
> _...yes, I do. He was so optimistic. _
> 
> _So what happened to your husband? And Betty, really think. You're more than your paranoia, you're a grandmother, I'm sure I can work something out for you if you can work with me. _
> 
> _Well, everyone is telling me he had a heart attack,_
> 
> _And why would we lie to you? _
> 
> _ I don't know...I just,_
> 
> _No, tell me what you know is true, not what your brain is telling you. You know it's the one lying. _
> 
> _He died of a heart attack. _
> 
> _Good. Good, this is good. Betty, you deserve a reward. _
> 
> _Oh? _
> 
> _I'm going to arrange a meeting with your grandchildren. _
> 
> _Oh! I thought I'd never see them again. _
> 
> _You're making progress. But...if you don't take your medication, I will not set up a meeting and you'll go back to isolation. You don't want that do you? _
> 
> _Of course not. I miss Timothy. _
> 
> _And Timothy misses you. So what are we going to do? _
> 
> _I'm going to take my medication tonight...hopefully I don't die tomorrow. _
> 
> _Hey, if you do die, which I assure you, you won't, but at least you'll be with George. _
> 
> _...yeah...yeah, that's a nice thought isn't it. Thank you Dr. Quinzel. Oh! Can I request some yarn and knitting needles? _
> 
> _Um, of course. _
> 
> _I want to knit you a scarf. And a sweater for Timothy! _
> 
> _That's sweet. I'll see what I can do. Alright, our hour is up. Thank you Betty. _

The recorder stalled as the tape came to a stop. She turned it off and smiled. It would be difficult to arrange a meeting with Betty's grandson, and required so much bureaucracy that it didn't seem worth it the more Harley thought about it. 

She glanced down at the brown bag she had brought with her and smiled. She had kept her first end of the bargain, and had bought an assortment of yarn and knitting needles. She would do the paperwork for visitation later tonight. Or...she could just say she tried and it got denied... Harley shook away that thought. No, she said she would. Besides, out of all her patients, Betty deserved this. She had earned it. 

Her thoughts wandered again as she watched the clock. The Joker was going to be admitted around noon. She was uncharacteristically excited about it. She really liked seeing new personalities enter the Asylum. Boring old Arkham was in need of new personalities.

* * *

The hours droned on. Harley talked to three of her patients. The first was a bigger man with APD. He was rather unpleasant to be around. He was a typical case. Hated women. Despite this, she did get him to talk though. Once they got past the whole, _"I'm going to make you squeal" _aspect of their usual conversations.

> _Good Morning Mr. Walker. _
> 
> _I bet you scream when you're fucked. I'll make you scream. _
> 
> _I bet every woman you forced yourself onto screamed. _
> 
> _What? _
> 
> _Mr. Walker, have you been taking your medication? _
> 
> _Fuck you. _
> 
> _That's not going to happen...And remember what I said last session? _
> 
> _Fuck. You. _
> 
> _I said if you keep talking to me like this, I'd have you prescribed shock therapy. _
> 
> _No. _
> 
> _Oh you don't want that? _
> 
> _No._
> 
> _You better behave then. _
> 
> _Fuck you bitch. _
> 
> _Hmm...one last time. Have you taken your medication? _
> 
> _Yes._
> 
> _Really? How is it working?_
> 
> _It's not. _
> 
> _No it's not is it...you want one thing. You just want a woman to like your company...but that's never happened has it? Because you're too violent and aggressive. _
> 
> _..._
> 
> _You haven't been taking your medication have you? Your medication is supposed to curb your anger and impulses. Tell me Walker, do you feel any remorse over what you did to those women? _
> 
> _They were whores. _
> 
> _So, no? _
> 
> _I'm just upset they didn't cry louder. _

Harley shuddered at the memory and pushed it to the back of her mind. The Dent Act had been passed, effectively locking up all of the mob extremely efficiently. The Maronis, what was left of the Falcones, the Russians, the dealers, the henchmen. Not people like Walker though, unfortunately. Harley herself believed it had certain questionable qualities, but she tried not to insert herself into politics these days. 

She had also seen Betty, who was quite happy about the supplies Harley had bought for her. Betty was a nice breath of fresh air. The other patient was catatonic who only communicated with clicks of his tongue. 

She thought back on what Cash had said to her that morning as she sipped her third mug of coffee that day. Were they just giving her the easy patients? Of course, people like Walker weren't the easiest, but they were the most boring. They had the most typical reasoning. A standard killer. No other motivation other than _woman bad _and frankly Harley wished she would get a challenge. Maybe she'd appeal to Joan. Maybe...she swallowed down some more coffee. Maybe the arrival of the Joker would spice things up...

"Dr. Quinzel, the meeting is starting in five minutes, Mr. Arkham said to be there in three," chirped a nurse by the name of Keisha. Dr. Quinzel glanced at her and nodded before gulping down the rest of her coffee. She followed Keisha to the staff meeting. 

The office room was dark, lit by several lamps and had a huge mahogany table sitting in the center. Her colleagues, Jeremiah Arkham, Dr. Hugo Strange, Joan Leland, and several others she didn't care to name. She took her seat. A breath of relief escaped her when another couple of staff members bustled in, giving her consolation that she wasn't the last one there. 

"Alright, now that we're all here, let's get to the first order of business," said Dr. Arkham as he shuffled his papers. 

"The Joker is being admitted today. Obviously there are precautions we'll have to take. Cash, I don't want any of the guards interacting with him at all. The Black Gate guards were way too excitable, and they were the main cause for the trouble he made. 

"We know that he is a master manipulator, and I don't want anyone weakened by him. Which brings me to my next point...I don't believe we'll be giving him psychiatric therapy. It's too risky and I don't want to risk anyone's safety trying to cure him. We all know there's no curing a man like that," said Arkham. Harley narrowed her eyes at this, but it appeared the other doctors weren't opposing his rather immature ruling. She glanced at Joan, who usually was a voice of reason. However, she too seemed under the spell that the Joker was a mad god out to destroy every life inhabiting his little world. _So new girl is speaking up now, isn't she? _she thought before clearing her throat. 

"I think that's a very unhealthy ruling," she blurted. Jeremiah shot her a look, as if daring her to continue. Joan gave her a hidden smile. 

"What do you mean? We all know this patient isn't going to be the same as the others," he said. Harley pursed her lips. 

"We should be treating him like every other patient. Don't you think feeding into the rhetoric that he's an unstoppable force of nature will just fuel his fire?" She asked. Joan grunted and turned to Arkham. 

"Dr. Quinzel is right. If we give in to fear, he's won. We can't let that happen," she said. 

"Well, I don't think we'll find any doctor here who wants to treat that thing," he grunted. Harley narrowed her eyes. She glanced at Cash when she noticed him staring intently at her, as if he was trying to calculate her motives. When they met eyes he gave a subtle shake of his head. 

"Well..." She started. Cash's brows rose as she trailed off. What was she doing? Was she trying to make the Joker her patient? Had she really been so spurred on by Cash's implications she had easy patients? She was horrified to figure out it was true. She wanted a challenge.

She wasn't the one to suggest herself. Joan spoke up first. 

"Harleen has been doing good work here. She's made progress with a lot of her patients and has been getting them to take their meds. She got Betty Hally to admit her husband had a heart attack—"

"If you're suggesting I throw out newest employee to the wolf, you're sorely mistaken. There's no way Dr. Quinzel can handle someone like the Joker. Dr. Strange, what do you think? You've been quiet." Jeremiah immediately dismissed the very idea. Harley frowned and shot a furtive look at Joan, who she considered a mentor and friend. Joan smiled apologetically at her. 

"Um, I think letting such a young woman go up against a mind such as the Joker's is just too risky. I will gladly take up the responsibility of the Joker," he said, his lips curling into a smile that made Harley squirm in her seat. She had never liked Hugo. Mr. Arkham practically melted with relief that a _competent male doctor_ had willingly volunteered for the task at hand. Harley rolled her eyes, catching Cash narrowing his eyes at her. What was everyone's issue? 

She knew this should have meant nothing to her, but ever since that morning she had a growing acknowledgement that she wasn't being challenged, that she was just there to sit and look pretty while dealing with typical cases and old grandmothers. She wasn't going to let this slip out of her fingers. 

"No, I think I can do this, all I need is a chance. Listen, if something goes wrong, I'll turn it over to Hugo, but I'm more than capable. You know I am," she snapped as she jerked out of her seat before the meeting could be adjourned. Jeremiah stared at her coldly, Cash hung his head and let out a sigh. Harley crossed her arms, trying desperately to keep the dominance she had acquired from her outburst. 

"...Do you really think you're ready for this? You treat B list criminals Dr. Quinzel. Betty Hally is a cake walk compared to inmates like this bastard," he said quietly. Harley faltered under his intense gaze. 

"Don't tell me you are considering this girl to actually sit in a room with the _Joker _of all people?" Growled Hugo. Joan smirked. 

"Give her this chance doctor. She was my assistant, she shows a lot of promise. Besides, it's not everyday we get a newspaper article detailing our _success _with patients. After the story on the column written about our golden girl, I think people would feel better about him being transferred here," Joan argued. Arkham stared bullets into Harley's icy blue eyes before he shrank away from them and sighed in defeat. 

"Fine, fine! But if you have one screw up, you're done with him and he'll get put in Hugo's care, understand?" He barked. Harley felt a rush of triumph hit her. She had no idea just how much she had wanted this. Finally, here was something to challenge her! Not just some b list prisoner with mommy issues. She knew, she just _knew_ the Joker would be a totally different story. And...part of her needed this to prove to all her doubters that she was more than a pretty face who barely made it through Med school. If she could make progress with someone they feared as much as him, they'd have to respect her. 

"Thank you, I won't let you down, I swear," she said with a radiant smile. Jeremiah eyed her warily before the meeting came to a close and the doctors and security guards made their way to the loading dock to meet their new inmate. 

"Harleen, when I said to be careful or else be thrown to the lion's...I didn't mean that as a challenge," murmured Cash. Harley shot him a look of a mixture contempt and amusement. 

"Ah, but that's how I took it," she said with a grin. Cash sighed and shook his head. 

"I don't know what to think of you," he murmured. Harley smirked. 

"How bout you stop doubting me. After all, you're the one that gave me the idea," she said with a wink. He frowned and trailed behind her. 

* * *

Harley stood shoulder to shoulder as she watched the camera feed. There **_he_** was...just past the monitor. The Joker's war paint was long gone, replaced by his real face. He looked so...normal, if it weren't for the scars and orange jumpsuit. His shaggy blonde hair fell at his shoulders and even past the camera she could see his dark, black eyes trailing around and studying his guards. Despite the normalcy of his appearance, she knew just by his body language how formidable he was. He was observing their weaknesses. Mugshots were taken and he was frog marched past the holding cell and into the hallway. 

Harley watched as the doors opened. She tried to keep a neutral expression, not show any signs of fear, unlike her colleagues, who were staring wide eyed at the door.

Her eyes landed on him. Her breath hitched, almost like he had sucked out all the oxygen like a black hole. He darted flickering glances at the doctor's waiting to greet him. Harley couldn't help but stare. He was even more imposing in person. She watched him tongue the scars at the corners of his lips as he studied them, and then he locked eyes on her. 

She held his gaze. Icy blue meeting crude black oil as the two seemed to size each other up. She felt her heart stop, his eyes piercing through hers. Then, he smiled at her. Subtle, barely there, and gone just as it had come. She fought back the urge to smile back at him, but she couldn't stop it. Her lips parted and she quickly looked away to regain control, biting down on her lip. 

She berated herself inwardly. That could prove to be a fatal mistake. She hoped it wouldn't haunt her. She needed to be at the top of her game. Jeremiah nodded to the guards and they marched the Joker away to the maximum security wing. 

When he left, she felt oxygen return to the room and she gasped. Jeremiah left with the guards, as he was and always would be the one to conduct introduction with the patients. Harley faltered. She had never felt that way upon looking at an inmate. He had been so calculating...so collected. Nothing like the persona he put on for the GCN, or the horror stories of his time at Black Gate. It was all the more thrilling to her. Her excitement grew. Her time at Arkham had just gotten a little more interesting, she was sure of it. 

"Wow...did you feel that? I can't breath!" Murmured Keisha as they walked down the hall to watch Mr. Arkham's interview with the Joker. 

"Yeah...yeah I felt it. He's much different in person than in the news, don't you think?" Mused Harley. Keisha shot her a wary look. 

"Even scarier. Even without the makeup I felt like he knew every one of my weaknesses," she bumbled. Harley glanced away with a hint of annoyance. She hadn't been afraid of the Joker. She had been exhilarated, did no one else share her intrigue? 

They walked into a side room overlooking an interrogation room. Jeremiah Arkham stood over the Joker. Harley watched as his eyes wandered from the head of the Arkham staff. Those black eyes stared at the one way mirror, and seemed, despite the impossibilities, that they had found hers again. She clenched her jaw, her heart thumping excitedly in her ribcage. 

The interview began. 

"Good afternoon. I am the owner of Arkham Asylum, you can address me as Dr. Arkham," said Jeremiah. The Joker dragged his eyes away from the mirror and offered Jeremiah a chilling grin. 

"You don't have to give me an _introduction_ Jerry," he said. Harley stilled at the sound of his voice. Gravelly, with a hint of nasal mockery. Jeremiah paused before he cleared his throat. 

"Well. Dr. Arkham is my name, what is yours?" Harley watched with anticipation. She needed to pay extra close attention to this meeting to gauge just how she should approach him. Already she knew Dr. Arkham had made a mistake by being way to forward. _I swear, it's like I'm the only one who can do anything around here, _she mused. 

The Joker seemed to share Harley's thoughts, but his reaction to them was much different from hers. He let out a shrill, delighted giggle. 

"You'll have to buy me um, a couple more dinners before we get so close and _personal_ doc," he said, licking his busted lip like a snake testing the air. 

"Well if you refuse to answer such a simple question, we'll call you by your ward number. Number 4-4-7-9," said Dr. Arkham. Harley watched as the Joker smirked, and she couldn't help but let her lips flicker into one as well. 

"Rolls off the tongue _doesn't_ i**t**?" He asked. Jeremiah sighed and gave a curt nod. 

"Ok 4-4-7-9, do you know what it takes for someone to end up in a place like this?" A patronizing question that made Harley roll her eyes. The Joker sat back and gestured with his cuffed hands. When he made no move to answer the question, Jeremiah continued. "You have to do some pretty deplorable things with a hint of mental instability." 

The Joker _laughed _at this. A barking, growl of a laughter that made Dr. Arkham jump in his seat. Harley's eyes widened, her heart pounding at the shrill, almost scream like sound of his laughter. She'd never forget it. 

When he finally calmed down, the Joker leaned forward on the table and grinned. 

"And, uh... what does that make _you_ doc? To end up in a place like this?" He purred. Dr. Arkham narrowed his eyes. 

"4-4-7-9, tell me in your own words, why you're here," he ordered. The Joker stared at him, his ever present grin stretching into a smile. 

"Why am I here doc? Well, it's uh, _simple._ I'm here..._because I **want** to be here._" his voice got low, almost like a lion's snarl. Jeremiah gulped, but nodded at the answer. 

"Well...welcome then. Tomorrow you will meet your psychologist, Dr. Quinzel—" 

"_Oh_, I get my very own psychologist?" Harley smiled slightly at the response, before she bit down on her bottom lip again to hide it. A part of her grew quite giddy as she listened to him talk. Someone who offered more conversation than, _I bet you scream when you're fucked. _

"Of course. You're no different from any other patient," he said. The Joker grunted and scanned the room he was held in. 

"We'll see...we will see..." through the one way mirror...his eyes met hers again and her heart stopped. Boring Arkham Asylum with its boring, typical inmates...just got a whole lot more interesting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo it has begun! Up next therapy begins for the Joker, or for Harley. Who's to say?


	2. Therapy Sessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker has been admitted to Arkham Asylum and Harleen Quinzel was, much to her excitement, appointed as his doctor.

Even though her shift ended at nine at night, she stayed two hours passed watching video clips of the Joker and his Reign of Terror on Gotham even more thoroughly than she had during the actual events. She definitely wouldn't be able to hit the gym on her way home. _Oh well _she thought. 

She watched his home video of him and Bryan Douglas. Her stomach clenched as he tortured the poor man in a meat locker. Harkey flinched when he shouted quite _demonically _for him to **_"LOOK. AT. ME." _**and his wicked, piercing laughter wracked her brain. But... somehow, she wasn't afraid. She was just...all the more intrigued by him. 

His scar stories stood out to her. Two different accounts. He must've also been a pathological liar. Twist people to sympathize, or relate to him. 

Maybe it was a bad sign that she was so invested in him already. He had been known to get inside people's heads and twist them to his bidding. She wasn't easily manipulated though, she was just interested. She just wanted to prove herself a good doctor. A better doctor than the likes of Hugo Strange and Jeremiah Arkham. 

When news articles and home videos couldn't sait her research, she decided she'd check police records from when he had first been arrested. She began to write up an email to the commissioner explaining the urgency and need for interrogation tapes, and any other information they could dig up for her to delve into. Maybe some footage of him at Blackgate. 

She only waited a few minutes, her eyes sagging under the pressure of exhaustion that had finally creeped into the front of her conscious, before at last Jim Gordon emailed her back. 

> _I appreciate the care and research you're putting into this Dr. Quinzel, although I don't think you should waste your time with that bastard. There's no helping him. _
> 
> _I can't send the files over email, but if you stop by the MCU tomorrow morning, I'll get them to you. Be careful with that freak, don't let him in your head. _

A smile dusted her lips. There people went again, claiming his super mind bending abilities. He was intriguing but he wasn't all powerful. She was not easily outmatched. 

She began to formulate a plan as she made her way back to her apartment. She'd need to be just as interesting to him as he was to her. It was custom for minds like his to grow bored of easy games. She'd need to think on her toes, and do the unexpected. She didn't want to know what he'd do to her if he got bored. 

And something about that, she found...much to her dismay, was extremely exciting. 

* * *

Just as promised, Gordon gave her the CCTV recording of The Joker's interrogation when Harley stopped by the MCU the next morning. 

"Are you sure you want to go through with this Ms. Quinzel? There are other ways a celebrated psychiatrist can get recognition you know," he said. Harley smiled at him and shrugged. 

"I needed a challenge," she said. Gordon scoffed and shoved his hands in his tan corduroy jacket. 

"You say that as if half those inmates in Arkham aren't already challenging enough," He murmured. Harley snickered at the comment. 

"You're right. They're all very difficult. I'm sure the Joker is no different," she said, although she knew he would be. There was just something about him that set him aside from all the others. 

"You have no idea...my advice to you is that you don't let him talk for longer than need be. Don't let him stray from the questions you ask...because he will take every moment to manipulate and twist. That's what he does," he said, something vile in his tone. He had been hurt personally by the Joker then. Harley frowned and pat his shoulder sympathetically. 

"Thank you for the advice Jim." He smiled at her, before the two parted ways. She looked down at the USB port and the files he had handed her. 

She read through them on the bus. His mugshots from that night still had him with his war paint on, smeared by sweat and possibly having been slept in. He had a smug smirk on his scarred lips. A complete contrast to his more stern, natural face in his Black Gate mugshots. 

When she arrived at Arkham, she immediately ducked into her office to watch the tapes. The Joker was cruelly hypnotic in the videos as he toyed with Commissioner Gordon, and, much to Harley's surprise, Batman. She hadn't spared the caped crusader much thought. He was afterall, apparently a murderer, no matter how unlike him that label was. 

Watching him question the Joker was another experience entirely. The Joker had told Batman that he completed him. A sort of Yin and Yang nemesis relationship. Physically the Joker was no match for the Bat, but psychologically...even Harley was lulled by his words. And she could tell that they affected The Batman as well. 

He was a master manipulator, which wasn't uncommon in sociopaths. She'd have to be on high alert. She jumped from shock when he office door opened, half expecting it to be the Joker himself, but instead Joan walked in. She carried with her two mugs of coffee and set one down on Harley's desk. 

"Good morning Dr. Quinzel...you look tired. Please tell me your new patient isn't already working you to exhaustion. You need to be on high alert," she warned. Harley glanced at her and took her coffee mug. 

"Don't worry, I'm fine. Slept like a baby last night," that wasn't true. She had tossed and turned all night long trying to think of all the scenarios her session with the Joker would turn out. She'd have two sessions a week, just like her other patients. 

"Mhm. Don't forget about your other patients Harleen," Joan chuckled light heartily. Harley gave her own weak laughter as she closed her laptop. 

"I don't see Betty for another day. That leaves me with Walker, Damian and Garth. They've been taking their medication right?" she grunted. Joan tilted her head, her short black bob falling over her cheeks as she studied her former intern. 

"I would assume so. They have orderlies for that reason," she said. She looked at Harley's journal filled to the brim with notes. 

"After your session with patient 4-4-7-9, go ahead and take the rest of the day off. I don't want this to consume you, and you could use some normalcy in your life," she said, before standing up and leaving before Harley could protest. 

Harley sat back and wiped her eyes of exhaustion. Everyone was so worried about her, but she knew she's be fine. She was just doing research. If anything she hoped her first session would quell some of her curiosity and intrigue with him. 

She'd probably enjoy the early release however. No doubt she needed to get away from all the monotony and Walkers and Garths. Paperwork piling on her desk. She needed to file some more reports. With a sigh, she pushed aside her laptop and research and turned to the more boring side of her work. 

* * *

The hours droned on, crawling as if it knew just how much she couldn't wait for the session. She had planned her approach. She knew she couldn't be like Dr. Arkham. She'd have to try more unorthodox methods. She'd have to get his attention first. 

Walker was a bit more responsive today. He only said he'd get her to scream once. Or maybe he did more times. She hadn't really been in a focused mindset for him. She knew she'd need to be in control this afternoon. She'd have to stifle her excitement. He'd probably try to scare her off...there was a certain possibility that he might even try to attack her. She'd have to prepare. 

Finally, it was noon and she got ready to meet Gotham's favorite terrorist. She decided she'd arrive fashionably late. She didn't want to seem too eager to either the Joker or her own colleagues. When five minutes had passed she got her things and slowly made her way to the cell assigned to them. Cash was waiting outside and he gave her an uneasy smile. 

"How is he?" She asked. Cash glanced back. 

"Well, quiet, to my surprise. He just watched us. The only time he talked was when he got here and he asked who you were. I just said he'd find out soon enough," He said. Harley nodded curtly and with that, Cash opened the door for her. The bolts unlocked with a _**WAAHH** _and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. 

When she stepped inside, the Joker's eyes shifted up and he rose his brows for a split second. The corners of his lips flickered and he sat back. 

"Well this is a treat...was I a good boy or something?" He asked, sitting back against his chair. Up close, Harley noticed that without all the face paint, he was actually quite attractive. Even the scars really weren't that noticeable if you didn't stare at them. If anything a lot less grotesque without the red lipstick scrawled on them. She set her folder and tape recorder down and sat across from him. No matter, a lot of people like him had charming traits, it's what made them so appealing and then _bam _they turned on you as soon as they got bored. Despite this knowledge, and her determination not to seem weak in front of him, she cracked a small smile. He smiled back. 

The Joker was chained to the table by both his feet and his hands. A CCTV camera loomed over them. Harley bent over the desk and folded her arms. Every sense of a plan she had washed away as once again her breath was stolen from her as they stared warily at each other. She tilted her head, her feathery bangs falling over her eyes. She brushed them away as she pressed the recording button. 

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel over seeing patient 4-4-7-9... formalities of course," she said into the recorder, her icecap eyes glancing up at the Joker. He smirked. 

"Of course," he said. She fought back a smile and straightened, keeping eye contact as if it were a staring contest. He didn't look away either. 

"Yesterday you said you were here because you wanted to be here...why?" She asked. The Joker grinned at her as he thought over the details of his interview. 

"Well _Doctor Quinzel _if I must be honest, by being here, I get a front row seat to watch all the crazies out there stream in," he said. Harley hummed at this. 

"Interesting...forgive me for nitpicking but, you say honest, and I don't think it's entirely possible for you to be honest. Or at least not to someone like me. I looked over your files last night, and what interested me the most was...your scar stories. You told two different stories," she said. He chuckled at this, low and gravelly. 

"Oh yeah...would you like to hear a third?" He asked, eyeing her up and down. To her dismay, she really did want to hear a third. His scar stories of the past usually tried to relate to his victims, and a part of her wanted to know what he could deduce of her. She wasn't a victim though, and it'd do more harm than good to let him indulge in his dishonest impulses. So, she stifled her curiosity and plastered on a look of indifference. Gordon's warning rang in her head. Don't allow him to stray or talk for too long. 

"No, I don't think that's necessary, at least not for today." she stated. He frowned and sat back. They eyed each other again and he glanced down at the tape recorder. Harley watched as he prodded his busted lip with his tongue. 

"No, it's not isn't it," he murmured, before leaning forward over the table. "But you just seem so excited...tell me _doctor, _do you think you can _fix _me?" He asked, raising a brow. Harley studied him, and chose her next words very carefully. 

"I think someone like you needs to _want _to be fixed," she said. The Joker grinned at her. 

"Mmm... someone like me, huh? It's not me who needs the fixing. It's society. You see, I bet you've already labeled me as a psychopath with antisocial personality disorder and blah, blah, blah. It's this kind of rhetoric that people like you come up with that hinder change. That stop people from seeing the truth that I try to show them. You see, I think everyone has the capability of being like me. The only difference between well someone like you or...Harvey Dent, with their ideas of right and wrong or reason, from someone like_ me_ is One _Bad **Day. **_That's all it takes," he growled until his voice was nothing but a whisper, reeling her in every word he spoke. She felt a shiver crawl up her spine. She had to get control back. He had mentioned Harvey Dent. Was he baiting her? 

"Interesting opinion...So is that what you were trying to do to Harvey Dent?" His eyes sparked when she mentioned the former DA. He leaned in and smirked as she debated on if she should continue. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about..." He purred. She narrowed her eyes.

"When you kidnapped Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes...and then killed Ms. Dawes, was that supposed to be Dent's one bad day?" She asked. He licked his lips and studied her. 

"_Bingo..._You're smart aren't you? That's a good quality. Now, please, continue," he said with a curious smile. She rested her chin on her fist as she calculated her next response. 

"You were trying to make Gotham lose all hope, weren't you? I mean with someone like Harvey ruined or dead, what hope did the city have other than...someone like Batman?" He hummed at the name as if she had struck a harmonious chord in him. She leaned in and the Joker eyed her. "But Harvey is still a symbol for good, so you failed," she said. She jumped when he laughed. 

"You know what doc? You're fun. I like that," He wagged a finger at her as a smug smirk grew on his face. She hid a smile and looked away, her fear dissipating at his _friendliness._ Out of everything she had prepared for and expected, she hadn't expected him to be friendly to her. In fact, this was the most fun she'd had with a patient since she started working here. However she had to remind herself that he showed every sign of being a high functioning sociopath. By indulging a bit in his own thinking, she hoped to spark an interest and trust with him, no matter how frail. Interest turned into trust. Once she had his trust, then she could work with him.

"I know why you're here. See, you're not like those other doctors, are you? You want to prove yourself to them. You want to prove you're more than a pretty young thing. You're bored with all those other inmates...I think...I think we're going to have a lot of fun." He stated, his black eyes glittering with an oily luster. She narrowed her eyes coyly at him as she thought about his assessment of her. She decided to ignore it, she wouldn't let him talk about her...a small part of her scared on what he would dig up. 

"I think that might be so...before we go any further...is there anything you want me to call you? I think calling you by a number is dehumanizing, I just refuse to do it," she said. The Joker hummed in thought, tonguing his scars as he so often did. 

"Well...you can call me Mr. J. Formalities, _of course," _he said, a wolfish grin growing on his face. Harley tilted her head, a small smile forming on her lips as he threw back her own words at her. 

"Of course..." 

The hour ended too soon, and the guards barged into their session, much to Harley's annoyance. He kept his eyes trained on her as they unlocked his cuffs and forced his hands behind his back, which he complied to without a struggle. As she gathered her papers and left, he gave her a wink, and she couldn't help but smile again. 

* * *

Harley kicked the door to her apartment open and stumbled into her bathroom. She was exhausted. She stripped from her black turtle neck and slacks and threw her under garments to the floor. She stepped into the shower. Cold water spat out and she shrunk away from it. 

Her thoughts wandered as she tested the water. She had got the Joker to talk...a small smile crept onto her face. He had been so exciting, she couldn't forget about the way his eyes glistened when they talked about his perception on the world. She wanted to know what made him tick. Her mind snagged on the Batman. The way he hummed with excitement when she said his name.

That's what she would focus on for their next session. The next time though, she'd _have _to keep the conversation on track. Today she had let it trail so far off course to pique his interest in her so she wouldn't find herself dead at his hands. Next time she'd take it a bit more seriously. 

She sighed as she scrubbed her body. She'd also have to come up with an official diagnosis of him soon, and prescribe him medication. She wasn't all too sure that would work on him...he wasn't like the other inmates. He was definitely a psychopath, he even had the charming aspect down—but just something about him seemed very sane. He spoke clearly, and there was a lightness to him that she had not been expecting. Of course, this all made a lot of sense. He was a high functioning sociopath with an agenda to prove to the world. That they were all as bad as him. 

She left the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. Harley leaned over the sink as she brushed her teeth and took out her contacts. _Alright enough about the Joker. Let's watch a movie, get our mind off work, _she mused. She left her bathroom after brushing her teeth and combing through her wet hair. She padded to her living room and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels and settled on _27 Dresses _which was playing on HBO. 

Tomorrow she'd diagnose him and prescribe him medication. Tonight she'd indulge in romantic comedy and some yoga. 

She loved watching rom coms. She had always considered romance unattainable for her, not because she didn't want it, but because she was scared she'd hate it. Because of what she'd witnessed, what she'd been through.

Downward dog. She had never really let herself get close to anyone. Part of her believed that romance was just an elaborate dance to get into someone's pants and reproduce that was marketed, packaged and sold, or at least that's where the logistics of her mind went.

Warrior two. Her more repressed romantic had always wanted someone to hold her and watch movies with. Logistics, however, was what kept a roof over her head and kept her from wearing her heart on her sleeve, unlike her mother had. Logistics was what made her a good psychologist.

Cobra. Another reason she liked watching rom coms that appeased said logistic side was arguing with just how nonsensical it was. All the time she watched as grown adults through tantrums and broke off their relationships over the dumbest miscommunications.

Lunge. It was amazing just how dramatic it all was. The fact the leading woman had so many bridesmaid dresses and was in love with her boss, while her boss was marrying her sister, and the man writing about their wedding was falling for her, it was all just so amazingly dramatic and sweet. So unlike the _I bet you scream when you're fucked! _shit she had to deal with. 

Chair pose. "Just..._communicate!_ You're fucking adults!" She groaned halfway through. _It's a good thing I'm not a marriage counselor, _she mused.

She finished her yoga as two leads got married in the end. She made her way to her bedroom and sighed dreamily. A totally nonsensical ending when put in reality, but Harley appreciated the simpleness of it all. Part of her wished things were so sweet and simple. That was not at all the case. She knew that. Personally. 

* * *

The next morning, her alarm rang from her bedroom and she shot out from her bed. In the light of day, she saw her apartment for what it was. A small, cold and steely apartment painted in blues and whites. A large window overlooking her block in downtown Gotham. Cars crawled along the road below her. She trudged to her closet and got dressed. 

"Oh shit, I need to do my laundry," she murmured when she found that most of her slacks were dirty. She dug through her clothes to find a black pencil skirt. 

"Mm, it'll have to do," she grumbled, before sliding it on. A button up blouse followed, which she promptly tucked in and buttoned up to her neck. She slid on dark stockings to cover her exposed legs and then slipped into a pair of boots. It was getting colder outside with the coming autumn. 

She went to the bathroom and freshened up. As hershe reached for her contacts when she found it already open. Her eyes widened and she groaned. They had dried out! She cursed under her breath as she dug through her drawers to find her glasses. She fumbled them before sticking them firmly on her face. 

She stared at herself in the mirror as she pulled her back into a tight bun, and brushed her bangs. The Joker resurfaced into her mind. 

_You're trying to prove to them you're more than just a pretty young thing_

She shuddered at his assessment of her. He certainly did know how to read people, not that she'd give him the satisfaction of having his guesses confirmed. She had struggled all throughout medical school, no one had believed she would be able to pass. Her heavy accent made people assume she was ditzy, so she had forced herself to talk like everyone else. People assumed she slept with the teacher so she started dressing like a prude. 

She had worked too hard to get to that school for everyone to doubt her. Even through the divorce of her parents...and her mother's manic depression, she had pushed herself. Especially after the incident. It had been a mixture of that accident and her mother's behavior that had motivated her to be a psychologist. That was back when she wanted to help people and secretly wanted to figure her own mind out.

Now she also had something to prove, and her priorities had shifted. She had to prove she was better than the doubters. She was better than the Arkham's, the Hugo Strange's, the Lelands'. 

She was getting successful, she was getting her own news articles...but she knew if she made one screw up, they'd attack her like vultures, tear her apart and tear her open for the world to see. That's why she couldn't fail. And maybe she had taken too big of a bite with the Joker, but she needed this. She needed to prove herself...to who? Quite possibly to herself. 

"Mr. J, you better not ruin this for me," she growled as she prodded her mirror. With that, she grabbed her purse and left the sanctuary of her studio apartment. She squeezed herself into an elevator full of share holder men in suits and women in tight dresses before all of them squeezed out once they made it to the ground floor. Each scattered as they left the building. Who knew where they all went. Who cared. Harley didn't. Harley had a train to catch to the Narrows. No cab driver in Downtown would give her a ride there. Not after the Fear Toxin incident a year earlier. 

That was when she had first started working at Arkham. Johnathan Crane had been rather creepy to her. She shuddered at the memory of him. He had always gotten too close when she thought she was alone. She had been Joan's assistant. She had proved rather efficient too. When Crane was fired and then held as an inmate in his own asylum, she had gotten his office and his job. Anytime she saw him, he reminded her of that. She avoided him as much as she could. Besides...she was better than him. 

The train ride was just as lonely and stiff as it always was. The poor saps surrounding her as they headed south towards the Narrows made her alert. Who knew what these people suffered from? 

Bipolar disorder. Anxiety. Depression... She studied them all. Really...she didn't believe in these labels. Most people didn't always fit into them. And the drugs. All the drugs. But working at Arkham, she knew the inmates needed to be stifled. Working at Arkham had made her jaded. She used to love helping people, she had been a freelance therapist after med school, but when it wasn't paying her bills and people's insurance companies were digging too deep into her sessions, she applied for Arkham. No one cared about the inmates. There were no insurance companies over analyzing her techniques. She just had to put up with people like Dr. Crane and Hugo Strange. Maybe she should try and tap into that younger, less jaded version of Harleen who loved helping people. Or, maybe she should just do her job, keep her head down. Prescribe medication and stifle inmates. 

She shook her head. Back to people watching. She watched as a slender woman with dark, long brunette hair slipped a watch off of a business man and stashed it in her leather jacket. Harley frowned and caught the woman's dark eyes. The woman and her stared at each other until Harley broke eye contact with a blink as she feigned ignorance. She thought she saw the thief smile. She wasn't equipped to deal with that. Keep her head down.

Harley stepped off the train and made her way through the cracked streets. Arkham's black gates loomed in the distance. She showed the guard her badge. He waved her in and she once again returned to her domain. She smiled when she remembered she got to meet with Betty again today. That would be nice. 

She entered the asylum and was greeted by Cash almost immediately. Had he been waiting for her? 

"Harleen, good morning," he said, a smile growing on his face. She glanced at him and smiled sweetly. 

"Hello Officer. How have you been?" She asked. Cash fell into line behind her as they made their way to the break room for coffee. 

"I've been good. It's donut day. Keisha brought some," he said. Harley smiled and the two jogged the rest of the way. As promised, donuts were waiting for them. 

"Nice," she said with delight. He grinned at her and took one. 

"I didn't know you wore glasses," he remarked. Harley sighed and propped them back up on her nose. 

"Yeah, yeah I do. I usually wear contacts but...they dried out last night. I was distracted," she murmured. Cash frowned at this. 

"Distracted? How have you been holding up? You left early yesterday, and I just want to make sure you're not already letting him get into your head," he said, keeping his voice low so no one would over hear them. Harley sighed and poured her some coffee. 

"I'm fine. Mr. J and I are getting along so far, in fact it was probably the nicest conversation I've had with an inmate in awhile. Joan was the one to send me home," she said. Cash shot her a look. 

"Mr. J?" He grunted, a disapproving hint in his tone. She chuckled wryly and shook her head. 

"Calling him by his prison number is dehumanizing. If we want to help him, we need to treat him like a human being," she said. Cash eyed her warily before shaking his head. 

"Sure, but if he does anything to you, I'll set the dogs on him," he growled. There was something unspoken in him. _There is no helping that monster. _Harley forced a giggle out of herself.

"I don't think that will be necessary," she said. They smiled at each other and Harley found herself appreciating his protectiveness. Cash had always been friendly towards her, and part of her suspected a hidden agenda, but she didn't care. She didn't have time to pursue romance, or the want to. People might discredit her if she let herself be swayed by desires. It was so easy for that to happen to a career woman in her prime. She had to be impenetrable, she had to be the best. 

"Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?" He asked. Harley hummed a distraught note as she ate her doughnut. She didn't really do anything for Thanksgiving besides watch the Macy parade and order food. She had no family to spend time with. Her mother was...not with her, and her father was off backpacking Europe. Anger swelled in her chest. 

"No," she said in a strained breath. Cash furrowed his brow as he studied her crumble beneath his gaze. 

"Oh...well, do you want to spend time with my family? I think you and I could use the vacation...get out of Gotham," he murmured. She arched a brow at him as she studied him. A sweat broke on his brow and he chuckled nervously.

"But of course, it's totally, you don't have too, Gotham is a fine—"

"Um, I'll think about it," she said. Cash smiled awkwardly at her. 

"Good, good. By the way, the skirt looks good," he said. Harley rolled her eyes playfully and finished her coffee. 

"Thank you," she said, before quickly making her way out of the break room to escape to her office. 

She closed the door and sighed before turning back to her office. Something caught her eye on her desk, something out of place. She cautiously approached her desk and frowned. Right in the center of her desk was a playing card. She picked it up and flipped it over. A red queen. It became obvious to her who had left it and she paled. She stashed it in her jacket, feeling her mouth go dry as she slowly sank into her rolling chair. What did this mean? What message was he trying to send her? 

She cupped her mouth as she sank further into deep thought. Her autopilot kicked in and she typed up questions for Betty and the Joker. What did it mean? Had she succeeded in interesting him? Or was she now on his hit list? She'd have to ask about it. Even if he didn't give her a straight answer. 

* * *

Her session with Betty went as it usually did. Betty helped her relax before she entered the lion's den. The sweet, delusional old woman had knitted her a scarf. She was taking her medication and Harley knew she'd need to uphold her end of the bargain. It was generally considered bad practice to bribe your patients, but it certainly got them to take their meds and got them to be more open with her. 

Bribes weren't going to work on the Joker. Bribes didn't really work on sociopaths in general. Even if she did bribe him, there was no gauruntee he'd uphold his end of the bargain. 

She got her papers ready in her office and marched to their room. Her plan was simple. Get him to talk about Batman, and through that, discover what made him tick. She'd ask first though about why the hell he had been in her office. She was still a little shaken about it, but at least it had just been a playing card. She had made sure he hadn't stolen anything, he hadn't. He had just left her a red queen. What did it mean? She'd ask Cash to make sure there was always a guard posted outside of his door. No more gifts, they may become more elaborate and bloody. She shuddered at the thought, but put it behind her as she came to the door. Cash was standing outside and he smiled at her. She smiled back. 

"Day two...good luck," he murmured. She chuckled and opened the door. The Joker was sitting, hands and feet chained to the table. A small smile flickered at his lips and he sat straight. 

"Two days in a row. I must be the _luckiest_ man alive," he drawled, a smirk growing on his lips. She fixed him in a stern look and set her folder down. 

"Hello Mr. J, how have you been. Been busy?' she asked. He swayed on his seat, feigning innocence as he smiled at her. 

"Arkham is starting to feel like home," he said. She hummed and leaned over the desk, not sitting down. 

"Hm, making yourself at home then? You wouldn't know about this then," she said, pulling out the red queen. The Joker's eyes sparked and he looked up at her. He coyly licked the corners of his lips. 

"Ohhh, I see you got my gift," he crooned. She tilted her head.

"What...what were you doing out of your cell?" She asked. The Joker looked almost offended. 

"Harleyyy, can I call you Harley?" He didn't wait for a response, "it's as you said, I was making myself at home. I didn't do anything wrong. Just got my bearings, no harm done, right? And you're not mad at me. I know you're not." He was right, she wasn't mad at him, she was just disturbed. She tried to ignore the fact he called her Harley. No one called her that. 

"What does it mean?" She asked. The Joker narrowed his eyes curiously as he watched her. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek and he sat back.

"Queen of Hearts..? That's for me to know and you to find out," he said with a boyish grin. She let a smile crack. He grinned at this. 

"So what do you have planned _doc? _Are we going to look at ink blots? Are we going to analyze my dreams?" He asked, his hands thumping against the table with an uncontained energy. She narrowed her eyes coyly and sat down. 

"No. No, that's boring. We're not boring people, right?" She said, arching a brow. He smirked as she took out the tape recorder. 

"Mmm, of course not," he said. She pressed the record button and leaned in. 

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel overseeing patient 4-4-7-9, day two, week one. I want to talk to you about the Batman," she stated. His eyes widened and he leaned forward with newfound interest. 

"Oh?" He asked. Harley smiled and nodded. The Batman made him tick, she knew this. By analyzing what he thought of Batman, she'd be able to analyze more about him. 

"Yes. In your interrogation at the MCU, you told Batman that he completed you, made you what you are. What would make someone who ripped off mob dealers want to rise and become the yang to Batman's yin?" She asked. He hummed delightedly. 

"Someone's been doing their homework. Harley, what do you think Batman stands for?" He asked. Harley frowned and leaned against the back of her seat. She didn't want to make this about her, but she wasn't closed to dialogue. 

"I believe Batman is a symbol, or used to be a symbol for justice in its purest form. Justice that didn't sit behind a desk and deal with all the bureaucracy bullshit," she stated. The Joker hummed with satisfaction at her answer. 

"Ex_actlyyy._ Batman is _Justice _in its purest form, no jurisdiction. So, that would make me, chaos in its purest form. You see, when there are strong forces on one side of a coin, there must be an equally strong force opposing them," he said. Harley nodded. 

"And what made you, starting from ground zero, want to be the force to oppose someone like Batman?" She asked. The Joker studied her, for what seemed like a long time before finally, he leaned forward. 

"I wanted a challenge...I wanted to see just how far I could go. I was _bored_. I wanted to have some uh, ...some fun, and I knew I could do it," he said. Harley felt a whisper of her own motivations in him and she found herself being reeled in. Abruptly she pulled herself back. 

"And _why_ did you want to challenge him?" She asked, leaning against the palm of her hand. He licked his lips and shifted restlessly in his seat as he eyed her. 

"People believed in him. He was their hero in the night. I wanted to prove that his form of self righteous justice was, uh, well, _dangerous_ and untrustworthy, at first, and then when I realized just how _incorruptible_ he was, the game became a lot more fun," he explained. Harley nodded and took some notes. 

"If he kills you, the game ends. You win either way," she murmured. The Joker gave a bark of gleeful laughter that made her flinch. 

"Yes it's quite the fun little game we play. He has his little rule. Everyone has rules. Jeremiah Arkham has rules...Officer Cash has rules...Doctor Strange has rules... _you have r__ules. _Personal rules. The only question is...what does it take to get people to finally break them?" He asked, licking his lips. His black eyes trailed across her body as he studied her. Under his scrutiny, she pushed her glasses back up her nose. 

"And I'm assuming you don't live by any rules?" She suggested. The Joker scoffed and fell back. 

"The only way to live in this world without losing your mind is to just _live_. Don't constrain yourself. Don't try to fit in, stop trying to prove a point all the time. Stop hiding from yourself. It's all just a big circle jerk, one I've refused to take part in. I just want to show everyone else that if they just did the things that fueled them, they'd be a lot happier." He said. Harley narrowed her eyes and shifted in her seat. He continued when he was sure he had her attention. 

"You see, by forcing ourselves to appease other people, we kill ourselves. Not to mention there's, there's always loop holes in rules that can be exploited. It generally ends up harming a lot more people than helping them. Just look at the mob running this city. What did Batman do about that? Batman can't really get his hands dirty, he's too _good. _But I can, because I don't give a damn. The white collars get their hands dirty. The white collars stick us in perfect little boxes and use us. No one panics when I try to tell them this, they panic when I kill them. Then they start paying attention to what I have to say. It's a bad joke." He said. Harley tilted her head. 

"So I guess my suggestion for _you_ is, instead of trying to fit into these neat little boxes of perfection that they plan for you, instead of trying to win them all over...figure out what _you _want and _take _it. Because you'll never be what they want you to be," he said. She felt her breath hitch with each fact he stated. In another life, he'd make a great politician. She found herself lulled by his words. At his last point, she dragged herself up from the depths. It was then she realized he was personally trying to manipulate her. She looked up at him and frowned. 

"You think I don't know that? I don't need to win anyone over," she said. He smirked at her. 

"Yeah you do...but you also know that I'm right. You'll never be good enough for them. The sooner you finally accept it, the sooner you can stop trying so hard to stay on their good side," he purred. Something in that statement both deeply disturbed her and also comforted her. Like finally someone understood the turmoil she dealt with every single day. 

"I like the red on you," he mused, as if he hadn't just gone on a philosophical tangent. She glanced up at him and smiled softly. He looked so normal, and handsome in his own right. The glimmer of excitement in his eyes at getting to stretch his mental muscles was probably the most enduring thing about him, even though she didn't let it fool her for a second. He was still a dangerous sociopath. 

"One of my patients made it for me," she admitted. The joker tilted his head with piqued interest. 

"How thoughtful of them," he mused. She chuckled and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. 

"Mhm, and they didn't have to break into my office to give it to me," she teased. The Joker laughed a low, breathy laugh. He looked up at her. 

"She's funny and smart. Two _very_ good qualities," he mused, shifting in his seat. She eyed him. 

"One last question before our hour is up...why are you being so open with me?" She asked. It was a valid question. A breath of fresh air, as usually it took several sessions over the course of months before people started to really talk to her. The Joker shrugged. 

"Well, uh, it keeps us both entertained, doesn't it? Arkham, I bet, can be a very _boring_ place. I'd rather have a little fun while I'm still here," he said simply. Harley nodded at his response with satisfaction. 

"Awesome. Well that concludes are session for today. Have a good rest of your week Mr. J, I'll be seeing you next Tuesday," she said. He smirked and leaned his chest against the table as he watched her scoop up her notes. 

"_I'll be counting the days..."_ He murmured, his black eyes trailing up to meet those big blue icecaps she wielded. The guards marched in and began to apprehend him. She stood up gracefully and he watched her trail out. 

She smiled to herself as she walked down the hall and fixed her scarf subtly. She was making progress, or at least the progress he was allowing them to make. Still, he was talking to her. She glanced down at the Queen of Hearts card still tucked into her jacket. The fear she had been put on his hit list dissipated. No, she was now very sure she had his attention. 

She thought about his words to her. What were her personal rules? What circumstance would drive her to break them? A chill crawled up her spine. A chill of both uneasiness and... excitement. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: The Joker and Harley go through more sessions, and the Joker causes a little mayhem at Arkham.


	3. Queen of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker and Harley kicked it off in their first sessions. 
> 
> Now Joker hungers for a bit of chaos in Arkham, new characters are introduced and Harley and Joker's sessions continue...

> _ **Carnival Comes to Town! ** _
> 
> _Haly's carnival has come to Gotham and is being held in the Burnley district on Lantern Street. Buy your tickets! Come see the amazing attractions such as the Flying Graysons! Or the fun carnival rides! See you there! _
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Dr. Harleen Quinzel overseeing the Clown Prince of Crime at Arkham Asylum! Is this the end of her shining career? _
> 
> _More on pg. 3_
> 
> * * *

Harley's eyes widened as she read the small little article about her. 

"What the _fuck!?" _she whispered over her latte. She glanced around her as she flipped through the newspaper. What the hell? What happened to the _"could this be a new leaf for Arkham?" _

What would Dr. Arkham say if he saw this? Hopefully nothing. She was doing fine with the Joker! _These people and their fucking..! God! _She thought bitterly. She crumpled up the newspaper and tossed it into the trash bin. These people were ridiculous. So ruled with fear by the Joker that they completely disregarded reason! She was perfectly capable of dealing with him! 

"Ugh, fuck them," she grumbled. She sighed and let it wash over her, no matter how miffed she was. She needed to call Betty's daughter to try and set up a visit with her son and his grandmother. She had filed the paperwork a week ago and was waiting for it to be approved. She sighed as she typed in the number. 

It rang monotonously before finally someone picked up. 

"Hello! Is this Margaret Whitaker? I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel, I'm currently the therapist for your mother," she said. 

"Oh! How is she?" Asked Margaret from the other end. Harley smiled with relief and began her commute. 

"She's doing really well. She's making lots of progress and is taking her medication. I want to schedule a visit with your son Timothy, she really misses him, and wants to show him how good she's doing," she said as she boarded the train. 

"That's really good to hear. We can't this week, Tim is out with his baseball camp...and, honestly, I don't know if I'd let Tim go to Arkham, especially now that the Joker is being held there," she said. Harley bit back a scoff, blowing out a taut breath of air instead. 

"Um, coincidentally I also oversee um..._patient 4-4-7-9, _and I can assure you he isn't a threat. He's in maximum security and we conduct visitation in a completely different section of the Asylum. Your son would be completely safe," she said. Margaret hummed with discontent. 

"I just don't want my son going there," she said. Harley ran a hand through her blonde tresses as she tried to contain her anger. How could she make the odds tip in her favor? 

"Ok. Forget about that...maybe you can help me with your mom though, maybe there are some favorite memories with her I can use in my sessions with her. The closer we get with her, the more likely of a chance we can get her out of the asylum for good," she said, taking a seat once a few people had streamed off. Margaret chirped with delight at the change of topics. 

"Oh yes. I can certainly help you with that! Let's see, before all this bad stuff happened, my mother was a very happy woman. I never knew she had delusions. I mean...there were times when she did some things that didn't make sense...but, that's just mother's for you, right?" She said. Harley swallowed as her head hung at the statement. 

"Right...um, what was she like back then?" She asked, trying to stamp out any emotions getting in her head. 

"Oh, she was just happy. She played the piano during church sessions. She knitted and sewed all the time, especially after I graduated highschool. I think I own about fifteen quilts now made by her," she said. Harley snagged onto this. 

"Oh yes! She still loves to knit. I actually got her some yarn and knitting needles. Not really up to policy, but your mother is just such a dear, and unlike the other inmates, I really do have hopes that she'll walk out. She knitted me a scarf, and Timothy a sweater," she said, hoping to bait the woman. 

"Oh, she did? That's sweet. Is she finished with it?" She asked. Harley bit her lip, trying to tread lightly so she wouldn't lose Margaret. 

"No, she'll probably be done with it next week though. I'm sure she'd prefer to give it to you and Tim in person, but...I guess I can mail it?" She said with a hint of performed sorrow. Margaret sighed remorsefully. 

"I wish. I miss her a lot, and I just don't understand how it happened! My mother had never hurt anyone before, I just, it's just strange. I still love her," she murmured. 

"She's worried you don't," Harley said quickly. Margaret faltered. 

"Oh?" She mumbled. Harley smirked ever so slightly. She was making progress. 

"Of course I understand your concerns, about Arkham, but, I'm afraid she's so isolated. She misses her family so much. The inmates are hardly any good company at all, as you could imagine. She told me that she was worried you'd never be able to forgive her and that she'd never see you or Tim again," she said. It was the truth, she wasn't lying. However, she always got a little thrill when she wove webs of words to draw people out and twist their perception. It helped a bunch with her patients and she'd be lying if she said she didn't use it on the "sane" people every now and then. 

"Oh that's awful. Tell her I still love her, obviously I still love her," she said. Harley shook her head. 

"Some part of her believed the staff at Arkham are out to get her. I'm the only one she trusts enough, even then, I'm nothing compared to her family, she needs you right now," she whispered. Margaret sighed. 

"I want to be there for her, and believe me I want Tim to see his grandmother. They were very close before all the shit hit the fan," she murmured. Harley bit her lip to stifle a grin. 

"But you're also concerned about his safety. I totally understand. Although trust me, if Arkham is safe for a sixty year old woman, Arkham is safe for Tim. It's like any other prison visitation. We recently got a lot more funding too. The asylum is in the best state it's ever been, and if it makes you more comfortable, I'll be there too," she said. 

"Maybe. I'll have to think about it. Thank you for calling though and giving me an update. I'm so glad you're her case worker. I know I can trust you," she said. Harley smiled a simple, genuine smile at the words. It was little confirmations like that that kept her from snapping completely from how tight she strung herself. 

"Of course. And remember, no ones forcing you to do anything, it's just in the best interest for your family. Often times people fall into worse shape when they lack the support of their family and friends. We all have to be there for each other in these times," she said. 

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Ok, I have to get to work now, buh-bye Dr. Quinzel!" She sang, before the line cut off. Harley shivered with delight as she pocketed her phone. Betty would be so happy about this! 

* * *

A long day at work made Harley want to collapse on her sofa back at her apartment. However, she still had a lot of paperwork to file. Last week she had diagnosed the Joker with high functioning APD, and more specifically, sociopathy because she was sure he hadn't been born with it. She debated on medicating him and decided that some pills to curb his aggression, or whatever the hell they claimed to do was her best option. Patients needed to be medicated for it to be considered progress. The idealogical therapist in her had shouted her protest, but her more refined Arkham psychologist snuffed out the argument. 

Betty was thrilled to know Harley had spoken to her daughter. Harley conveniently left out the fact Margaret was having doubts about the visitation and instead opted for a more positive, naive outlook outl her old patient. 

As Harley sat at her desk, she felt a heaviness in her coat pocket and she once again found herself fidgeting with the playing card the Joker had left on her desk a week ago. A red queen...

She opened a new tab on her computer and searched the meaning of the Red Queen of hearts. 

> _Queen of Hearts is a card of beauty, magnetism, affection, and idealism. The women represent the loving mother, sweetheart, or the adored daughter. They are invariably attractive, with a strong appeal to the opposite sex. When they trade for it, they are flirts; they want constant flattery, good clothes, and good times; they may become lazy and frivolous._

"That's ridiculous," she muttered under her breath. She eyed the card, her heart thumping in her chest. Surely this isn't the message he was sending was it? She went to another website.

> _Charming, magnetic and often quite attractive, the Queen of Hearts has an innate ability to have favorable influence over others. The “Mother of Higher Love” commands powerful emotions of empathy and compassion with a flair for the dramatic, a potent combination that makes this card, when in a tight spot, prone to excitability or moodiness._
> 
> _As a royal member of the Crown Court Cards, the Queen of Hearts has the ability to reach others through her innate leadership abilities, powerful communication skills and good business sense, and the level of success achieved is predicated on the ability to keep emotional reactions in check._

"Two times in a row..." She murmured, feeling heat rush to her face and her stomach clenched. She looked back at the card and snatched it up off of her desk. 

"What do you want?" She whispered, prodding the card. She bit her lip and sat back. What was he trying to tell her? It shouldn't matter to her. She turned back to her computer and searched one more thing. 

**_Queen_ _ of Hearts and Joker card meaning _**

_What am I doing? This is ridiculous, _she thought, and the search results also proved it was ridiculous, for nothing of substance popped up. She sat back, a little disappointed. She looked back at her card and but her lip. She needed to get out more. She stashed the card back in her jacket and shut down her computer. Dr. Leland's words echoed in her mind. _You could use some normalcy in your life. _Boy, could she. An idea struck her and she skipped forward. 

She faltered as she stepped out of her office, half expecting the Joker to be waiting on the other side with a smug smirk; saying something about how she had almost understood. She shook away this thought as her office door swung open and she locked it. Twice. For good measure, just to make sure it was locked. She then tightened her scarf and made her way down to the foyer. 

Her eyes lit up when she saw Cash and she jogged to join him. 

"Cash! Just the man I wanted to see. Do you have plans tonight?" She asked as they both clocked out. He pursed his lips in thought. 

"Not exactly, why?" He asked. Harley smiled a heart melting smile at him and tightened her perfect bun. 

"Would you like to grab dinner with me?" She asked. His eyes widened at the suggestion before he broke out into a grin. 

"I thought you would never ask!" He exclaimed. She giggled and followed him out of the Asylum. There, now she could push the Queen of Hearts memo the Joker had engraved in her to the back of her mind.

* * *

Jim Gordon sat tirelessly in his police cruiser. Just because they had made him commissioner didn't stop him from doing some field work of his own. Besides, he'd do anything to help Batman. Sitting behind a desk wouldn't do that. Now, with the Bat forced into hiding by his own men, Gordon also had to admit some of this was from guilt. 

He had fired Ramirez and any of the other cops The Joker and Harvey..._Two-Face _had revealed as corrupt. Jim honestly found a sick irony in the fact most of cleaning up in this city had been done by that freak in a purple suit. Without him, and he'd never admit this to anyone, but without that bastard...the mobs would still run the city. He had virtually bankrupted them and in some twisted, sick way, got the cops to track them down via their money. He'd never give credit to that monster though. 

As far as Gotham was concerned...Harvey Dent was the hero of the city. No matter how much Gordon had to wake up everyday and live with the awful truth he could never tell. Live with the fact he had condemned Batman, and the disappointment of his wife. 

His radio buzzed and he jumped up. 

_We have a 10-57 on Lantern street. _

"Copy," said Gordon, and he shifted into drive. Quickly, he raced towards the scene. There was an abandoned field that was up for sale to a condo unit but was currently being used as Carnival space. Jim's gut wrenched as he remembered the Joker, but he forced himself to get out of his car. People were screaming and racing to escape. Gun shots resounded throughout the carnival and he gasped. 

"I'm going to need backup, we have a 10-71!" He spat, before pulling out his gun. Where was the Batman when you needed him? 

"What's going on?!" He asked a bystander as they tried to flee. 

"Some lunatic shot one of the acrobats!" She screamed. Gordon sprinted into the main circus tent, his brows furrowing as his eyes adjusted to the light. In the center of the ring was a woman bleeding out, a bullet in her chest. There was a man beside her, his spine, legs and neck broken and an agonized scream peeling from his lips. 

"Call an ambulance!" He ordered into the radio. He could hear the sirens of his fellow officers. Gordon jogged up to the man. 

"Sir, you're going to be ok," he said. The man clasped his arm, pulling Gordon in. 

"My son! Find my son!" He gasped. Gordon pried himself away from the dying man and clenched his jaw. 

"Where did he go?" He asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to search for any clues. 

"To the...to the back. With the...with the costume trailers. Hur-hurry!" Sputtered the man. Blood was filling his lungs. Gordon spared one last look at the man before he took off in a sprint to the back. 

He watched as a man leaped over a fence and a smaller boy, probably no older than fourteen racing after him. _Oh God no! _thought the commissioner frantically. He started to chase after them. 

"Ugh, I'm getting too old for this," he grumbled as he heaved himself over the fence. He raced after the two disappearing into an alleyway. 

"You mother fucker!" Shouted the small prepubescent voice. Cuss words spewing out if his mouth we're almost enough to make Gordon stop and do a double take. He rounded the corner as the man shoved the kid down and held a gun up to his head. Gordon rose his gun and clicked the hammer. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" He warned. The kid took the opportunity and knocked the gun out of the shooter's hands. Before the shooter could protest, he punched him across the face and shoved him. Gordon advanced, but the man slipped out of their grips and ducked behind a garbage can as Gordon let off a warning shot. 

"Kill him!" Snarled the boy as Gordon held his gun up, waiting for the man to make a move. He fired another warning shot and the man sprung out from hiding and sprinted. Gordon held up his gun, his fingers twitching as they debated on whether or not to squeeze the trigger. Jim dropped his gun and looked at the kid, sorrow filling his eyes. 

"What the hell was that!? You let him go!" Snapped the child. Gordon frowned. 

"What are you doing out here? You should've been evacuating like the others, why would you go after the shooter?" He asked, trying to change the topic. The kid growled and shook Gordon off. 

"What the hell happened to my parents?" He asked, trying to sound tough. Gordon however, had been around the block a few times to know when someone was about to cry. 

"Your father is in critical condition, but an ambulance was called. I'm so sorry this happened to you, but I promise we'll catch that man and bring him to justice," he said firmly. 

"You should've just killed him...are you the commissioner?" Asked the boy. Jim looked down at him, his eyes welling with empathetic tears. 

"Yes that would be me...so who are you?" He asked. The boy scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Richard Grayson. I swear to God if you call me Dick!" He growled. Gordon huffed with an enduring amusement. Now to more pressing matters. 

They watched as Richard's father was carried away on a stretcher. Richard crumbled beside his dead mother and dragged her head into his lap. 

"This isn't fair, my parents didn't hurt anyone, they just did gymnastics!" He sobbed. Gordon comfortingly pat him on the back once he had come to sit beside him. 

"Hey, I know if doesn't look good now, but an old friend of mine said the night is dark just before the dawn," he said softly. He kneeled beside the young boy and wrapped him in his jacket. The boy eyed him warily before breaking into a sob and resting his head on Gordon's chest. He hushed him and rubbed his back.

"We'll get him," he promised. 

"No...I'll get him," whispered Richard when he was certain Gordon couldn't hear. 

* * *

_Dr. Harleen Quinzel overseeing patient 4-4-7-9. How have you been feeling_ _ Mr. J? _

_Better now that you're here. I _live _for these moments with you. _

_Well that's nice. I prescribed you medication._

_Oh did you? You know that shit doesn't work right? _

_Well...for legal reasons I have to argue with you. _

_...Mm, good girl. Oh! I got a newspaper. They're saying some very interesting things about you. _

_Oh. Yeah. _

_People don't think you can handle me. _

_Well don't get your hopes up. _

_Oh, certainly. I can tell it's gotten to you though. I mean, you're so _perfect, _at least that's how you want them to see you.._. _I hope I don't ruin your career..._

_Believe me, the assholes standing in my way will have a higher chance at it than you._

_Why's that? _

_You and I have an understanding. _

_ Ohhh...you think so?_

_Yes...I know what Queen of Hearts means now. _

_Oh _good_. _

_Very flattering. Was that your intention?_

Harleyyy, _I don't have _intentions_. _

_That's a lie. Everything you did during the summer required a high level of planning down to the smallest details. You're a mastermind. Today we'll talk about how you control your impulses._ _You have impulses and you do act upon them, but not without careful, careful planning. Not__ many people like you can do that. _

_I don't suppose they can..._

* * *

Harley let out a heavy breath as she hung from the Horizontal bar in her gym. The week had been quite monotonous, if it weren't for her sessions with the Joker. She found she also seemed to live for their talks. The date with Cash had gone well in an average way. 

They had dinner at a cafe and talked about work. Harley left halfway through to take care of a phonecall from Margaret. She decided then that Cash, while sweet, was too close to work for her comfort and if she really wanted a sense of normality she'd have to go past her co-workers. 

_Do you really even want a relationship? What, to appear normal? I thought we decided you'd focus on work anyway. What's going on with you? Maybe they're right. Maybe the Joker is too much on you. _

That wasn't true. The Joker was probably one of the nicest parts of her day. She found that she enjoyed their philosophical conversations. He offered much better company than most of the men that talked to her. 

She grabbed hold of the bars and flipped over her arms before twisting into a swing to sit atop of them. Her knee hooked over the bar and she climbed on top. 

Maybe she should give him a gift. To help him spend his time at Arkham without resorting to violence. Maybe get him a deck of playing cards. He seemed to like that. She definitely was starting to have favoritism with her patients. How could she not? When half of them yelled at her, called her a bitch or threatened to rape her. Betty was a sweet old lady who knitted her a scarf, the Joker was a brilliant mind who challenged her intellectually. She also knew he enjoyed her company too. He wasn't as bad as everyone made him out to be. She wasn't even sure he was truly insane. He seemed to be on a higher level of sanity in her opinion. He definitely had a mental illness that caused him to disregard the feelings of others, but he wasn't _crazy. _He knew exactly what he was doing. It was fascinating. 

She twisted around the bar, her limbs straining as she twirled before finally she let go and somersaulted through the air. She landed perfectly, and, out of instinct, raised her hands in triumph as if an imaginary crowd was watching her. She lived for the moments when she could relish in her own physical talents. She only got to come to gym once a week if she was lucky. She was happy she didn't make a career out of it like she had done therapy. She was sure she would've come to hate it eventually. It happened so often when someone's passion eventually became their vice. 

"Ugh, stop thinking like that. I don't hate my job, I don't hate helping others...I just...wished it wasn't so bureaucratic," she murmured. She brushed her bangs out of her face and grabbed her towel. 

"Hey hot stuff! Bend over again won't ya?" Harley clenched her jaw and turned to see a bimbo of a man standing near the door. She grimaced and grabbed her bag. 

"Careful, before I blow my whistle," she snapped, and stomped past him. 

"Wait wait, aren't you that Dr. Quinzel lady? I've seen you in the paper! You look even hotter in person," He said with a wicked grin. She ignored him and sauntered down the hall past the treadmills. 

"Hey! Don't walk away from me, bitch!" He snarled. Harley bristled and kept going, fighting the urge the punch him. He let her go without much of a fight. Most guys like that we're all bark no bite. So boring and gross. _If you're gonna start speaking trash, you better have some kind of fight, you fucking piece of shit. _She thought bitterly. Her fists flexed as she left the gym. Her heart was racing. 

Harley was more astonished by the fact she had wanted to fight him. She had wanted to have an excuse to punch and kick. Maybe she needed some more hobbies. Maybe all the violence she was surrounded with was starting to get into her head. She shuddered as she hailed a cab. 

* * *

Jim paced anxiously. Richard was sitting with one of his colleagues and being questioned. An autopsy was being performed on Mrs. Grayson. He was tired. _I'm going to need a cup of coffee. _They had been at this for a full day. Rich was tired too. He decided he'd do the kid a favor and make him some coffee as well. 

He entered the booth and sighed. 

"Alright Bullock, lay off, he's been at this all night," grumbled Gordon. The old cop looked up at him and sighed. He gathered his papers and left. Richard sat, a look of shock and anger on his face. He had had that look for the whole day they had been at this. 

"How are you doing bud?" He asked, setting a cup of coffee near the boy. Richard glanced up and pursed his lips. 

"Bit of a loaded question don't you think? Obviously not well. My mom's fucking...she's fucking dead," his voice cracked and a new set of tears sprung into his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, refusing to let himself cry. He had cried too much. 

Gordon sighed and sat down beside him. It reminded him too much of all those years ago when Thomas and Martha Wayne had been murdered and he had been left to comfort a broken, crying Bruce Wayne. He frowned at the memory. He had hoped he wouldn't have to do this again. 

"Can I tell you story?" He asked, sipping his coffee. Richard looked up at him, his dark bushy brows furrowed with resentment at the world. Jim took his silence as a yes and resituated himself. 

"A long time ago, when I was still a bit cop, something just like this happened. And there was a boy sitting in the department, shocked, confused and angry. His parents had been murdered right in front of him in cold blood in the alley way outside of an opera house. Back then I didn't know what to say to him, so I gave him his father's jacket and told him it going to be ok. The world hadn't ended. Do you know who that boy was?" He asked. Richard eyed him with newfound interest, and Gordon smiled sadly when he watched the boy involuntarily lean in. 

"No, who was he?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

"Bruce Wayne," he said. Richard's eyes widened and he looked away. 

"That shitty rich guy?" He asked. Gordon couldn't help but laugh. 

"Who he is now is besides the point. The point is, this can happen to everyone, and I just want you to know that you're not alone. If you need anything, you know where to find me," he said. A ghost of a smile appeared on Richard's face. 

"What's happened to my dad? Is he still alive?" He asked. Gordon frowned. 

"I don't know yet, but we'll just have to be patient. I can't promise anything but I hope over everything that he makes it. For your sake," he said. Richard smiled softly at him. Gordon stood to leave.

"Hey, uh...thanks Mr. Gordon," He said softly. Jim smiled softly at him and pat his back. The door flew open, causing both Jim and Richard to jump with shock. 

"Commissioner Gordon! Riddle me this, my body's made of brass, my kisses burst and burn, and I'm the smaller of my brothers, what am I?" Asked a slender man, his shoulders hunched nervously as he wrung his hands. Jim swallowed down his annoyance at having been interrupted. 

"Ed, now's not the time," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. Edward pushed up his owlish glasses as he looked at Richard. His face fell and he shifted uncomfortably. 

"I see...um, nevermind the riddle, the autopsy is completed. Mrs. Grayson was killed by a nine millimeter, and we ran the fingerprint. It's a man by the name of Tony Zucco. Guess who he works for? Come on, guess," he said. Jim sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Richard stood up. 

"Tony Zucco? That's his name?" He growled. Edward nodded with enthusiasm. 

"Yes! Who does he work for? I'll give you a hint. He ruled the world before it blew up and he wears tuxedos while he watches his wealth burn, who is he?" He asked, twitching enigmatically. Richard clenched his jaw and Gordon sighed. 

"Nygma, we really don't have time for your riddles," he murmured, trying his best to be patient. 

"Salvatore Moroni," snarled the kid. Edward grinned wide at the participation. 

"Correct!" He exclaimed, poking Richard's nose. Rich bared his teeth and darted away. Jim shot Edward a wary glance. The new forensic detective was extremely socially unaware at the best of times, but he was still rather enduring when you listened to him. Gordon had to gently remind him that right now wasn't the time for playing games with a murder witness and Edward bowed his apologetically. 

"Oh, my apologies. Don't worry young friend, we'll bring your man to justice yet!" He chirped before quickly leaving the room. Gordon smiled softly at the boy, who had a confused frown on his face. 

"You Gothamites are weird as hell," he grumbled. Gordon snickered and finished his coffee. 

"You can say that again buddy," he said. He pat Richard on the shoulder. 

"Remember, I'm here for you kid," he said, before leaving out the door to check on the evidence. So the mob was trying to squeeze out as much cash as possible after going bankrupt. No doubt a protection fee payment gone wrong and the mob trying to prove a point. God these people never gave up. He glanced behind his shoulder and at the boy, his dark, greased back hair falling over his face, his face stern and calculating. He hoped the kid wouldn't get into too much trouble. Maybe he could approach Bruce on counseling him. He knew the trust fund baby wasn't busy doing anything besides taking cruises and buying restaurants. He could make some time to help a kid going through the same thing he had. 

* * *

_Dr. Harleen Quinzel overseeing patient 4-4-7-9_

_Mmm, like music to my ears..._

_I got you something. _

_Oh? For _me? 

_That's right. Here. _

_Ohh...Harley, how thoughtful. This will definitely keep me entertained. The guards are no fun._

_I'd guess not. But yeah, since you seem pretty keen on playing cards, I figured I'd um, I'd reward you for being so agreeable these past few weeks. Really. _

_Mmm, you're sooo, _good. _If it weren't for you keeping me such lovely company, I would've blown this place sky high by now. _

_...Is that so? _

_Indeed._

_...Mr. J, how would you say you _ _forge connections with people? It's common for people with APD to be extremely removed and apathetic to their fellow man. You obviously forged a connection to Batman, but I'd say that's more of an obsessive rivalry. A game as you put it. I want to know if you've had any ability to forge strong friendships or romantic relationships. _

_Well sure...I'm only _human _Harley. _

_I see, would you care to elaborate? _

_Well...a long time ago I...used to date a woman. Can't remember her name. She was very beautiful, like you, actually. _

_How did you treat her? _

_We had lots of _fun together. 

_Ok, but how did you relate to her emotionally? _

_I liked how alive she made me feel...however, we did get into fights and eventually... she just became too boring._

_Heh, I get the feeling..._

_What about you? _

_Me? _

_Have you had any recent or, past relationships? Any..._crazy _ex boyfriend's I should know about? _

_...um, tch, no. I don't get out much, um, this isn't about me, let's focus on you. _

_Harleyyy...I think we're friends. Friends share. _

_I'm your therapist. _

_What's the difference? _

* * *

Harley made her way to the break room, a small smile on her face. Another session that had gone very well. She felt like she was really making progress with the Joker. He even said he thought they were friends. She'd never admit she felt that same connection with him, just to keep things professional, but dammit. He was just so charismatic and charming. 

_A typical sociopath. _She didn't care. He offered much better conversation than, _"So, how's work going?" _or _"Fuck you bitch, I'll make you squeal." _Men these days were either boring or fucking shitty. The Joker wasn't. The Joker was philosophical, and _funny, _and complex! 

"Dr. Quinzel, how are your sessions going with patient 4-4-7-9?" Asked Dr. Strange from behind her. She squeaked and stumbled away from him. 

"Oh they're going great. We're making a lot of progress," she said with a sweet smile. Hugo narrowed his eyes at her. 

"You seem a little too enthusiastic...what do you get up to in those sessions?" He asked, a snide tone laced in his voice. Harley frowned at him and turned to fix herself a cup of coffee. If only to avoid looking at his ugly muttonchops and piggish face. 

"What are you implying?" She asked as she tore open a packet of sweet-n-low. He smirked. 

"How does someone like you get to be so successful at such a young age?" He inquired, his lip curling as he looked her up and down. She bristled and took a gulp of her steaming hot coffee without thought to how hot it was. She hissed when it scalded her tongue.

"Studying hard and not wasting time on college parties or boys. That's how. And for your information, I talk to him like he's a person, not a monster. Maybe you should try it some time," she barked, before shouldering past him. He growled under his breath. 

Harley slammed her office door shut and practically threw herself into her chair. She hid her face in her hands as she slumped over her desk. With a sigh, she tried to let it slide off her back like water off a duck's feathers. Her lower eyelid twitched as she booted up her computer and began to type up a report for the Joker's progress. Her phone began to ring and she groaned at the interruption. 

"Hello? This is Dr. Quinzel," she said, trying to plaster a smile onto her face. 

"Hello! Hi, this is Margaret! I wanted to tell you I decided it was a yes for the visitation! Timothy really wanted to go, and I just can't say no to him. Especially when it comes to my mom. He loves her," she sang over the phone. Harley's previous frustration melted away and she smiled for real this time. 

"Oh that's wonderful! I bet Ms. Hally will be thrilled to hear this. She finished Tim's sweater by the way, and it is just darling," she crooned. The two women giggled and talked about lighter matters. Finally, the conversation ended and Harley sat, a little happier in her office. She had two rays of sunshine yet. 

The rest of her day was rather uneventful. Joan came in to give her some more paperwork to file. She printed out her reports and sent them to Dr. Arkham. Cash stopped by to give her a bar of chocolate, which she graciously accepted. He had the night shift. Harley forgot about his existence once he left her office and she went back to her work. Finally the clock wound down and she grabbed her coat before clocking out. She'd get paid soon. Maybe she'd plan a dinner for herself. A nice dinner. Or maybe buy a massage. She could use it. God knows she could use it. 

Harley let Arkham around ten o'clock and made her way to the train station. She boarded and sat in the empty car. Her eyes wandered until she spotted a slender woman with long brunette hair...she recognized her as the woman who had stolen a watch. Her eyes widened as the woman entered her car and sat across from her. 

The two girls sat in silence. Harley had to admit it was nice being in the company of another woman this late at night in the Narrows on Public Transport of all places. A sense of camaraderie filled her and she let herself smile. The woman smiled back. She was so pretty. Her pale face, perfect cupids bowed lips, and sleek, shiny brown hair. She was wearing a leather jacket and tight black leggings. A pair of goggles sat atop her head and a grocery bag sat on her lap, but there weren't any groceries inside of it. She figured if she had run into this woman twice now, she might as well know who she was. 

"Busy night?" She asked finally. The woman smirked at her and sat back. 

"I guess you could say that...you're Dr. Quinzel, aren't you?" She asked. Harley brushed her bangs out of her face and shrugged. 

"I guess you could say that," she said. The woman grinned, a small giggle escaping her. The two studied each other. 

"So you're the Joker's shrink. What's that like?" She asked, tilting her head. Harley rolled her eyes. 

"Everyone asks me that. They all expect me to say he's horrible and that I wonder how I'm still alive. He's not that bad. He's much more fun to be around than my other patients," she said. The woman chuckled and leaned forward. 

"That so? How interesting...so he's not completely, well, insane?" She asked. Harley grunted. 

"Actually...I think he's very sane. He knows exactly what he's doing. That's what makes him dangerous. I diagnosed him with APD. Specifically high functioning sociopathy. But enough about that. I like to leave work at the gate. I've seen you twice now. Who are you?" She asked. The woman grinned at the question. 

"Selina...thank you for not saying anything the other day," she said. Harley shrugged. 

"What would I have even done?" She asked. Selina smirked. 

"Absolutely nothing," she practically purred. Harley chuckled and gave a curt nod. 

"Exactly." The two fell into a content silence before the train came to a slow and Selina stood gracefully from her seat. She saluted Harley, who waved back before she watched the thief saunter out from the train. 

Eventually, Harley made her way back to Upper East Side Gotham and disembarked. She made her way through the shining streets and back to her apartment building. She walked past her doorman and waved before entering her elevator. Empty. She pressed the fourth floor and sat patiently before the doors opened. She walked down the empty blue and white hallway. Finally, she came to her door and unlocked it. She pushed it open and threw her keys on their hook. She closed the door behind her and sighed. 

"What a day," she murmured, before stripping from her clothes and tossing them in the dirty hamper. She'd have to take her clothes to the laundromat eventually. She staggered into her bathroom and turned on the shower. She'd do some yoga, then go to bed. 

She did just that, but it would take another hour for her to stop tossing and turning in her sheets as she thought over what Dr. Strange had told her, or even what the Joker had told her. Or her train ride with Selina. Soon enough though, she drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

* * *

A soft hum filled the dark room. Scarred thumbs and fingers traced the lines of playing cards as he laid in his cot. The corners of his lips danced as his tongue darted out to lick his dried, cracked and scarred lips. 

It would be a few hours before the lights came back on. He felt antsy. He needed to do something. He lifted a card and let it flow through his fingers like molten metal. 

The Joker tapped his feet and sat up. It would be another week before he saw Dr. Quinzel again. Oh Harley...Harley, Harley, _Harley. _She was just so much fun. He revelled in watching her, and she was quite the sight for sore eyes. Lucky him. She was just the kind of thing to keep a man from going _insane _in this place. 

His week was monotonous and boring. On Mondays he sat in his cell and tried to get the guards to talk to him. On Tuesdays he got to talk to Harley, on Wednesdays, same story. He loved Wednesdays and Tuesdays. On Thursdays however, he had to take a shower. On Fridays, he talked to his buddy Carmine Falcone. They talked about politics, the destructive and vague moralities a person held himself to, right and wrong and the benefits of anarchy. Or at least, the Joker did. Falcone would add very insightful anecdotes such as, and not limited to, _"scarecrow", "scarecrow," _and of course, _"scarecrow." _The weekends were especially rough, but at least he had bribed one of the guards to give him the daily paper every Sunday. 

He needed something to happen though. He was settling into a routine. The Joker didn't like routines. It was making him antsy. He needed some action. The guards were no fun. He'd have to _make _them fun. 

He poked his head through the small window in his cell door and looked to the side. A black man, tall, and muscular. Officer Cash. Ohhh, how interesting. 

"Hello..._officer." _he purred, licking his scars. Cash glanced at him before rolling his eyes and staring ahead. Officer Cash always escorted the Joker to his "therapy" sessions. The Joker had started to notice things. He had also overheard conversations between Cash and his fellow guards. 

"How's Harley doing?" He asked with a small, giddy chuckle. Cash darted a poisonous look at him, and the Joker could tell he was smothering any anger he was radiating. He didn't do a very good job of hiding it. He had successfully struck a nerve. 

"Oh, no answer. Maybe you didn't hear me. How's my girl _Harley _doing?" He asked again, his voice a growl in his throat. 

"She ain't your girl. And it's Dr. Quinzel to you. No one calls her that," he snapped. Ugh, finally the soldier boy broke his vow of silence. The Joker shivered with delight and he grinned wolfishly. 

"Ohh, I don't know. She _really_ likes it when I call her that. I think she really likes me, what do you think? One, um _guy_ to another, huh?" He sang, his tongue darting out to prod his lip. Cash growled under his breath. 

"Why would she like you? You're a freak," he spat. The Joker growled at the insult. Strike one. He swallowed back his newfound contempt for this man and brushed his hair out of his face. 

"Well according to her, I'm actually a _high functioning sociopath. _And why? Are you jealous?" He gasped. "Ohhh...I get it. Want me to put in a good word?" He purred, his shoulders rolling. Cash bared his teeth and he spun around to face the Joker. 

"Listen clown, I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work. Now enough about Harleen," he snapped. The Joker let out a shrill laughter into Cash's face before stumbling back to gather his breath. 

"Oh I'm not finished yet. She asked me if I forged romantic relationships. What do you think Cash, think I should take my chance? Shoot my shot?" He asked, a wolfish grin growing on his face. 

"You can try, but...Dr. Quinzel and I are actually seeing each other right now. We already went on a date the other day, so chew on that you freak. Go sit back in your corner and shut the fuck up," he barked. The Joker bared his teeth. Strike two. 

"Is that so..? Well...I hate to break it to you, but...she told me she wasn't seeing anyone. And then...and I'm really sorry about this. You have to believe me when I say I had no idea, but then she and I, well...aha, ahahaha..._well _let's just say there should've been a window because it got very _steamy...I_ never would've gone through with it if I'd have known you and her were official," his brows rose apologetically and he grimaced. It was a lie of course, meant to provoke the guard into action. The Joker was thirsting for some action. 

"Enough! I've heard enough from you. Harleen would never do that. Not with a freak like you!" He spat. Joker grinned wickedly. Strike three. 

"What are you going to do about it Cash? God, her skin was so _smooth_, and those _eyes, _I bet you just get lost looking at them. You can only imagine seeing them roll up from pleasure. You're really missing out. What are you going to do?" He goaded, his eyes rolling up as he growled with mock arousal. Cash snarled and took out his ID card and baton. 

"I'm going to teach you some manners," he snarled. The Joker let out a howling laughter and backed away as the door swung open. Men were too easy. He snarled with laughter as Cash darted forward, his baton swinging. 

The Joker dodged and shoved Cash into the wall with alarming strength. A bark of laughter escaped him as he shot his elbow against Cash's face. His baton hit the Joker in the ribs and he stumbled back. Cash advanced, but the Joker whirled out of his way and grabbed his uniform. He dragged him to the side, his arm swinging down at his back. He gripped Cash's clothes and rammed him into the wall. 

The Joker's hands reached for any weapon he could find. The baton cracked against his face and he flew back, holding his hand up with a groan. Cash took the opportunity to hit the Joker a second time in the ribs, but the Joker fell back onto his cot and kicked out at him. His feet connected with Cash's stomach and he fell back. The Joker shot up and swung his fists nastily and rapidly, a feral snarl leaving his mouth with every punch, slap and kick. He tackled Cash to the floor and forced his foot onto Cash's baton wielding hand. 

"You people are just too easy," he cackled as his fists drove into Cash's face. Blood shot out of the guard's nose, and he moaned from pain. The Joker howled with laughter and wrestled the baton away. He shot up and gripped it in to hands before cracking it down on Cash's body until he was a whimpering, bloody mess on the floor. 

The Joker threw the baton aside and sat on top of the man. He hummed delightedly. 

"Come on, we're going to take a field trip," he sang, heaving a barely conscious Cash to his feet. Cash moaned and groaned from agonizing pain and the Joker shushed him. 

"Shshshshshhhh, we have to be quiet," he murmured as the two began to trek through the Asylum halls. A small giggle escaped him. What a fun night! However, he had to nearly drag Cash, which pissed him off. When they finally made it to Harley's office, the Joker tossed him to the ground and took his keys. 

He opened the door and pushed it open. The Joker then grabbed Cash by his hands and heaved him into the room. 

"This place is too... organized," he grunted, before slumping Cash at the foot of Harley's large mahogany desk. The Joker hummed to himself and kicked Cash playfully in the ribs. He could escape now if he wanted to...but it wasn't the right time yet. He'd have to wait just a little longer before saying farewell to Arkham and Harleen Quinzel. Not too long though. The time was just around the corner for his wait to end and the fun to begin. 

He plopped himself into her desk and rummaged through her papers and drawers for a stapler. He pulled a jack of hearts from his scrub and hummed to himself as he hopped over her desk and kneeled before Cash. He moaned and the Joker hushed him once more. 

"Now, now, let's not make this the _staple_ of our new friendship," he teased, patting the guard's face in mock affection. Cash groaned, before the Joker put the card on his forehead and stapled it there, blood seeping onto the card and running down his fingertips. 

"Maybe now she won't find you so _boring." _he whispered, before clutching Cash's neck and strangling him. He watched with fiery eyes as the life slipped out of his fingers. He grinned with sick satisfaction as he choked and his pulse slowly faded into nothing. He tongued the scar tissue in his cheek and hummed to himself as the light faded out from his eyes. How beautiful. With a satisfied little sigh, the Joker stood up and brushed his hands off on his scrubs. 

"Let's see, what else is left to do?" He asked as he prowled through the halls. He twisted behind a wall as another night guard went on his patrol through the hall. Satisfied he was safe, he sauntered through the halls of Arkham, a twisted grin on his face. He had business to do. Just because he was playing the waiting game didn't mean he couldn't get his players ready and pieces in place. Oh he'd miss this place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo Edward Nygma and Dick Grayson have arrived!!! 
> 
> Up Next: Harley deals with her special gift, the fallout of her patients actions and the backlash from the press and starts to snap under the pressure. More Robin and some cause and effect that will only result in bad things.


	4. Isn't It Strange?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time Joker left Harley a little present, Richard Grayson was brutally given the Bruce Wayne Treatment, and Harley met Selena Kyle. 
> 
> This time Harley deals with press backlash at her apparent failure, Richard meets Bruce Wayne and Nygma and Gordon go after Tony Zucco.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _Harley's hand shot up and hit her alarm clock. She sighed and rose from her bed, blonde tresses cascading down her shoulders. She sighed and swung her legs out of bed. Another day. Another shift at Arkham. Another droning week to follow. She was settling into a routine. Things were getting boring again. She only had two hours of relief from the monotony, and even that was getting stale. She just expected that she would've been attacked by now or something. It was nice though, she smiled, that he had considered her a friend. _Don't flatter yourself. He must have some sort of endgame. _

Harley trekked to the bathroom and freshened up. She got dressed, grabbed her purse and left her apartment to get coffee. Her usual routine. He had to be planning something. There's no way he wasn't craving some kind of chaos. There's no way their little one hour sessions were curbing his impulses. Some part of her really wanted him to do something drastic, to shake up things at Arkham. What that meant for her, she had no idea. 

She boarded the train, coffee in hand. Thoughts surfaced of Selina. A small smile graced her lips at the pleasantness of female company. She left at her stop and made her way through the Narrows. A man selling falafel called out to her, but she waved him off and entered the gates of Arkham. The security guard stopped her. 

"You sure you want to go in there?" He asked. Harley furrowed her brow. He looked visibly shaken. Something...something was wrong. 

"Um, what?" She asked dumbly. The security guard gulped. 

"You haven't heard?" He asked. Harley pursed her lips with annoyance and being withheld information. 

"What do you mean? What's going on?" She asked. The guard glanced back at the building and rubbed his eyes. 

"It's Cash." Harley's face paled. What happened? She knew Cash had the night watch yesterday. 

"Oh..." She murmured, and slipped past before the guard could say anything more. She half walked, half jogged into the asylum. A group of doctors had gathered in the lobby, police officers there as well. Her eyes widened. 

"Hey, what's going on?" She barked to anyone who would listen to her. Jeremiah caught her eye and grimaced. 

"It's not pretty...one of the custodians found Cash in your office...dead," he choked. Harley's face drained of color and she took off, sprinting up the stairs towards her office. 

"Wait! It's a crime scene Harleen, you can't go in!" He shouted. She ignored him, her heart thundering in her ears and her eyes searching frantically. She threw the door open. Forensic detectives were inside, taking pictures of her office and...she gagged and fell back. 

"Doctor Quinzel! You shouldn't be in here!" Exclaimed one of the detectives. She swallowed her disgust and fear down and shoved past him. 

"Bullshit, it's my office," she snarled. There he was, officer Cash slumped in front of her desk. His body was a bloody pulp, and his neck had dark bruises indicating he had been strangled. But what really caught her eye and filled her stomach with icy dread was the playing card stapled to his head. A jack of hearts. She knew immediately who had done this and she let out a whimper. She was reminded just how formidable the Joker was. Why he hadn't turned it on her was another question entirely. One would say this was just a warning to her, show her what he was capable of. Warn her not to get in his way. Threaten her, send her a message he was a monster and couldn't be fixed. Or maybe...it was another _fucking gift. _

That's not how he worked though. There was a rhyme and a reason to everything he did. So what was Officer Cash doing dead in her office with a jack of hearts stapled to his forehead? She left her office feeling sick, her stomach churning. She covered her face. She realized she should've been horrified at the sight of a dead body, more importantly, at the sight of someone who had liked her and had gone on a date with her. Someone she supposedly liked back. 

Instead she found herself only questioning the Joker's motives. She only found herself more..._excited. _That was the most terrifying thing. She broke into a sprint down the hall. What the fuck was wrong with her? _You just had to complain about how bored you were didn't you? You happy now? _

She needed to talk to him. Question him, _figure him out. _She was disturbed and excited and scared. Not of him, but of herself. He had never hurt her. 

"Doctor Quinzel! Where are you going?" Asked Keisha. She halted in her steps and turned towards her. 

"Where's the Joker?" She asked shakily. Keisha frowned, eyeing warily as she studied her colleagues motives. 

"He was found wandering the maximum security wing this morning. He's in solitary confinement right now. Surely you don't want to talk to _him. _He killed Cash, Harleen!" She exclaimed. Harley sighed and rubbed her eyes. 

"I know, I know, I just, I need to know what he wants!" She groaned. Keisha looked at her with dumbfounded shock. 

"He's fucking with you Harleen, leave him to rot," she snapped. Harley shot her a look but sighed and returned to the foyer where Dr. Arkham and Dr. Strange were waiting for her. A second wave of dread hit her as she realized what this was going to mean for _her. _

"Quinzel. Office. Now." Growled Arkham. Harley's eyes widened for a split second before she hardened into a resolved, stern frown. She followed Dr. Arkham and Hugo up another set of stairs and into Mr. Arkham's office. Hugo sat down, but Harley remained standing, trying to fight for any ounce of dominance she had left. 

"This is bad. Very bad. Patient 4-4-7-9 is, well, extremely dangerous. Obviously this reflects badly on you," he said. Harley clenched her jaw. 

"Where is this going?" She murmured. She knew exactly where it was going. She lost her Joker privileges. 

"Well...I think, I think patient 4-4-7-9 has what we would say, an _unhealthy obsession _with you. Or maybe, he's resentful of any therapist that would hypothetically be assigned to him and you're his target. We all know he likes to play with his food. So going off of our first theory, it's really inappropriate to lead a patient on for their trust and information. There is a...rumor about you," Arkham went on. She bristled at the accusation. The absolute _nerve. _

"And what would that be?" She asked tautly. Dr. Hugo Strange turned to her, a sly smirk on his stupid, ugly face. 

"That you bribe and manipulate your patients into giving you what you want," he said. Harley tried not to scoff or argue. She was in hot water, but she couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. 

"How mature," she murmured. Dr. Arkham cleared his throat and waved it off. 

"I share your sentiments. Which is why I am leaning more towards our second theory that he resents you and is targeting you with this recent victim. If that's the case, it's unsafe for you to continue your sessions with him. For your own personal safety, or for your inappropriate treatment to the patients...you're suspended from ever interacting with patient 4-4-7-9 again. His session will be taken over by Doctor Strange, as was the agreement," he said, nodding to his colleague. Harley was fuming. This was not her fault. 

"Maybe you should question how the Joker even got out of his cell. Obviously Cash was provoked by him and tried to retaliate. This is not my doing, and I think it's rather unfair to attribute it to that. Mr. J and I have an understanding, he trusts me. We were making progress, if you take that away, it'll all be for nothing," she tried to argue. Maybe Arkham was right, but she highly doubted either of his theories. What if this was just what he wanted? What if he was getting her out of his way so he could focus his efforts on escaping? What if they were playing into the hysteria he built around himself? If things changed what if that meant he would win? 

"Mr. J..? Oh dear...this is non-negotiable Harleen. 4-4-7-9 is no longer your patient. Now...I know you had personal relations with officer Cash...how about you take the rest of the day off?" He suggested. He just wanted her out of the way. She found it quite startling that she actually didn't feel any sort of remorse for Cash. She had never really been interested in him. He offered mediocre conversation, and was a normal colleague that she found solace in. He was still boring. _God, what is _wrong _with me? _

"I'm not leaving. I have an appointment with Ms. Hally and unlike any of your patients, she's making progress. _I'm_ making progress. The Joker isn't going to stop me from doing my job. I'll be damned if _you _get in my way too," she spat, before rolling back her shoulders and fixing her hair. Dr. Arkham glared at her, but before he could say anything, she left, softly closing the door behind her despite the roaring impulse to slam it shut. 

Rage coursed through every fiber of her being. Her hands itched to break something. Perhaps a habit formed because of her mother. She refrained and instead excused herself to the bathroom. What if the body in her office was just a distraction? She wouldn't put it past the Joker to set up a red herring. 

She splashed water on her face to snap her out of her anger. Maybe Dr. Arkham was right. Maybe it was a good thing she had been discharged from being the Joker's therapist. Maybe they were right, maybe he was targeting her and she was in danger. But that wasn't fair. They still let her deal with the patients like Walker who threatened to rape her any chance he got. The Joker never threatened to hurt her... openly. She didn't think this was a threat, she thought of this as a farewell. He had something planned. Maybe he didn't want her to get in the way? 

She should've told someone her suspicions. She should've. But she didn't move. No one out there really listened to her. Joan pretended to and gave her opportunities, but she was just as dismissive as Arkham. Harley knew it was because she didn't want to be replaced by someone younger and prettier than her. She understood and didn't blame her. She just hoped this wouldn't blow up. 

* * *

It blew up. As everything concerning the Joker did. He stayed two weeks in Solitary confinement. Harley had to deal with reporters cluttering the Arkham gates, _demanding _a taste of what she knew. Guards helped her shove through them, offering them quips such as, _"The police will release a statement," _or, _"If you don't stop crowding the gate you will be forcibly removed." _

It was a disaster. In those two weeks, two more dead bodies had been found. Also guards. One was slumped over in his office, and the other was hanging in the men's bathroom. He had been busy. It was that confirmation that he hadn't been specifically targeting her...at least not completely targeting her that put Harley's mind somewhat at ease. What was he planning? 

Betty missed her appointment with Tim because Margaret caught wind of the drama and decided it was best her son didn't go. Harley understood, but was no less pissed off that the Joker had ruined something good going on in her life. 

Despite all this...she found herself exhilarated. This was afterall, the kind of spice she had been begging for. Boring old Arkham was getting interesting and chaotic and she couldn't help but be fascinated by it all. Her emotions were confusing and alarming. And then...well and then the articles streamed out. 

> _ **Arkham Asylum broken by the Joker's chaos! ** _
> 
> _ **Psychiatrist, Dr. Harleen Quinzel has been acquitted her therapy sessions with Clown Prince of Crime! ** _
> 
> _ **Three dead security guards in Arkham Asylum, what horrors are being brewed by the Joker now? ** _
> 
> _ **Is Dr. Harleen Quinzel in cahoots with the Joker? ** _
> 
> _ **Dr. Hugo Strange taking over the Joker's therapy; is it even worth it? ** _

When Harley read the headlines, she found herself more enraged and disgusted every day. _Working with the joker!? Who do they think I am? _

And then the GCN started to report on it. It was getting out of control, and she was sure the Joker was cackling like the maniac he was at the chaos unfolding. She wasn't allowed anywhere near the dungeon where the solitary confinement was held. They were all afraid she was going to try and help him which was ridiculous. The media was blowing all of this way out of proportion. Guards died almost every year because one of the inmates made a whoopsie, but of course the Joker was big news. Everyone bowed to his every whim, hungry to tear apart his mind and show it to the world. 

Harley sat in her apartment as she watched the nightly news, worried with what they would say. Her hands wrung themselves as she sat rigid on her couch. 

"Good evening Gotham, I'm your host, Mike Engal, and welcome to Gotham Tonight. Tonight we have a very special guest with us, say hello Mr. Wayne," said Mike. Harley sat back as the camera panned to the handsome billionaire, his dark hair slicked back with gel and an ever present, arrogant smirk on his face. 

"Hello, thank you for having me on your show Mike," he drawled. Mike grinned and waved him off. 

"It's a pleasure. Now, Mr. Wayne, you donated twelve million dollars to Arkham Asylum after the detainment of the terrorist known as the Joker. What is your opinion on the murders of the security guards?" He asked. Mr. Wayne made a calculating face before sighing. 

"I believe it could've been avoided. They have the state of the art equipment to keep those wack jobs under reigns, so I attribute it to human error. Arkham has a history of having bad staff members," he said. Harley agreed with Bruce even if she didn't know who he was directing his comment at. It was the guards' fault he was out of his cell in the first place. 

"So you believe it's a fault of the staff. Press seems to agree. Now, Mr. Wayne, rumors have been speculating that Doctor Harleen Quinzel is responsible for the Joker's behavior, and may have been working with him. After all, she spent a lot of time alone with him and—"

"Mike I just don't think that's true. From what I know about Doctor Quinzel, she's smart, and one of the only doctors to make head way with those patients. This is the fault of the guards. When I looked into the Asylum, I found that the guards regularly antagonized the inmates. Who's to say a security guard wasn't in the Joker's cell?" He questioned. 

"Ugh! Thank you!" Shouted Harley. Mike nodded solemnly at the honesty. 

"Mr. Wayne, what made you want to invest your time in the struggles of the Asylum? This just doesn't seem like you," he said. She could see a flash of annoyance deep within the billionaire's eyes. He only smiled. 

"Well I figured it was about time I start taking responsibility for this city. My father was a hero, and I've found that I'm the only one left to carry his torch." He stated. Mike nodded along. 

"Moving on from the Asylum, is it true you will be investing some time into the Carnival Murder? We received information that commissioner Gordon asked you to offer condolences to the young boy Richard Grayson after the murder of his parents. As someone who went through a very similar situation. Any comment?" He asked. Harley tilted her head as she leaned against the arm of her couch. A small sigh of relief escaped her. 

"Yes it is true, when the commissioner told me what happened, I knew immediately that I wanted to help," he said curtly. 

"Currently, Mr. Grayson is in a coma at Gotham Central, do you think he'll make it?" He asked. Bruce frowned in thought.

"I hope he does," he said. Mike smiled and nodded solemnly before turning to the camera.

"With all this death and bloodshed surrounding us, don't fret. With people like Bruce Wayne stepping up to the plate, maybe Gotham can have a little more hope," he said. Bruce smiled and waved to the camera. "And we've run out of time tonight, thank you for joining us on our show, I will be turning it over to sports now," he said. Harley sighed and turned off the TV. This would blow over. It had to. _Do you really want it to? _

* * *

Richard sat in the police cruiser next to Gordon as they drove out of Gotham city limits to the newly rebuilt Wayne Manor. Part of him was excited, the other was loathing every second of it. 

"Do you and Bruce Wayne know each other personally?" Asked Richard finally as they pulled into the estate's long driveway.

"Not especially, but he's only ever been polite and kind to me. I think he puts on a facade for the outside world," he said. An old man was standing outside, a kind smile on his face. Richard flipped the collar of his leather jacket up and stepped out of the police cruiser. He gave the butler, or who he assumed was the butler, a wary look as Gordon climbed out of his cruiser. 

"Good afternoon master Grayson, Bruce is waiting in the tea room. I will escort you," he said. Richard eyed him, but saw no malcontent in his eyes. He smiled and shook his hand. Slowly he was warming up to this. It had also been nice when the press got off of him and just let him breathe. The media got so distracted. Part of him was a bit grateful to that Joker character for causing such a ruckus at the Asylum so people would finally leave him alone. 

They came to the "Tea Room" and Gordon pat him on the back. They parted as Grayson pushed open the door. There he was, Bruce Wayne in all his fineries. He had on a button up, sleeves rolled to his elbows and loose black trousers. Richard puffed up his chest as the two studied each other. Bruce smiled and poured himself a glass of scotch. 

"So you're Richard. Gordon told me a lot about you. I'm really sorry about all of this. I bet you're pissed off at the world," he said. Rich swayed on his feet as the two studied each other. After enough silence had passed and Richard had chosen his next words, he spoke. 

"When they caught the guy, did you want to kill him?" He asked. Bruce blinked, a stunned silence drawing out between the two. He cleared his throat. 

"Yes," he finally said, before he gulped down his scotch and gently set the crystal glass down. Richard nodded and shrugged off his jacket. The two sat down across from each other. 

"I hope you're not doing this so people will like you," he spat. Bruce chuckled and shook his head. 

"I stopped caring about what people thought of me a long time ago," he admitted. Richard scoffed and nodded. 

"Yeah like when you burned your whole mansion down," he said. A distant look crossed Bruce's eyes as he stared out a window. 

"Yes...just like that..." He murmured. Richard caught the look and leaned forward. 

"That's not true...is it." It wasn't a question. He stated it. Bruce shot him a wary look at the mention of that day. It was a day he had lost everything to protect people. He cleared his throat and dodged the accusation. 

"Why did you ask me if I wanted to kill the murderer?" He asked. Richard shifted in his seat, building walls. 

"I want to make Zucco pay. I have to," he snarled. Bruce's eyes widened and he sat up. He saw so much of himself in the boy, and he found he wanted to take him in under his wing and help him. 

"Richard, he will pay. The moment he's locked up behind bars," he reasoned. Rich shot up. 

"Don't tell me you really stood by and let scum like Joe Chill walk and _breath _after what he did. I have to make Zucco pay. I thought you'd understand," he growled. Bruce pursed his lips and stood up. 

"I get it. I've been there, I almost killed Joe at his hearing. I couldn't bring myself to do it," he said. Richard decided he had made a mistake by coming here and went to grab his coat. 

"So you became an intolerable rich fuckboy and burned your estate? I don't believe it," he growled. Bruce frowned at the accusation. 

"I ran. For a long time, I ran halfway across the world. I lived in poverty and protected those that needed it. I found value in life. I'm not trying to invalidate how you feel, but taking life is never the answer. If you kill a killer the number of killers in the world remain the same," he stated. Richard stared at him, trying to discover his secrets, his intentions. "Besides, you're so young, no one should put themselves through that at such a young age," he said. Richard bared his teeth and turned away. What had he been expecting? He felt a bit stupid for trying to...to do what? 

"Forget I said anything...thanks for having me Mr. Wayne," he said softly, before pulling his jacket back on and taking off to the door. Bruce let him go, clutching another glass of scotch. Gordon poked his head in and waved goodbye. Bruce held up his glass and nodded. After a moment had passed, and Bruce was sure he was alone in his mansion besides Alfred, he sighed. 

"Alfred," he murmured. He had a feeling Richard would do something drastic. He saw much of himself in the young man, his spirit and need to take matters into his own hands. He deserved to be validated, and a part of Bruce wanted to mentor him, guide him on the right path. 

"He's like a mini you," grumbled the old butler as he entered the tea room. Bruce sighed and nodded. 

"I know...and if that's the truth then we know what he's going to try to do," he said. Alfred frowned knowingly. 

"What are you going to do?" He asked. Bruce paced out of the tea room. 

"I'm going to help him catch Tony Zucco," he said. Alfred rolled his eyes, a small enduring sigh escaping his lips.

"I thought you retired from that," he murmured. Bruce shrugged. 

"I'll bring out the cowl for one last mission. For Dick. I can tell this is the path he's going down, nothing will talk someone like him down from it. So, if you can't best them, join them," he stated. Alfred hurried to keep up with Bruce's long strides. 

"And what's to stop him from becoming another Batman?" He asked. Bruce shook his head. 

"Well, he'll have the Batman to guide him, warn him and mentor him to make the right choices. I didn't have that. He's young. He needs someone on his side right now. I can be that." Bruce set his jaw with a newfound determination. 

"And how do I know this isn't an excuse to play hero again?" He asked. Bruce sighed and looked back at Alfred. 

"It'll just be one mission Alfred," he said. Alfred grunted. 

"It's always just one mission Master Wayne," he grumbled. Bruce smiled at the enduring concern. Just one more mission. 

* * *

Things had gotten worse once the Joker was finally out of Solitary confinement. There was now a petition being pushed by the family of the security guards to get the Joker, described as a _raving lunatic,_ out of Arkham Asylum and back into Black Gate. 

Protesters had even gathered outside those black, rod iron gates, waving flags that read, _Get the Clown out of the Circus, Send Joker Back to Black Gate, _and, _Justice for the Heroes! _

Harley could barely leave work without getting harassed by protesters. Some told her that she enabled his behavior, others said she needed to get out of there while she still could. Some were sympathetic to her, treated her like Joker's victim. Others wanted to see her fired, believing every lie the media told them. 

Harley didn't want to deal with them, so she stayed behind later after her work was finished. Joan sat in with her one night and gave her some coffee. 

"Sometimes I think the sane ones are the ones inside these walls," she mused quietly to herself. Harley looked up, slumped over her desk. 

"...Yeah. I can see why you'd say that," she murmured. Joan smiled kindly at her. 

"I think they were wrong to pull you from the Joker. It's never good to switch psychiatrist after trust has already been established," she said. Harley scoffed and sat back in her seat. 

"No they were wrong to do because now the media wants to have my head, these people don't understand," she said, her lips creasing to a hard frown. Joan nodded patiently along in agreement. 

"They just want us to deal with the outcasts for them," she grunted. Harley laughed wryly and wiped her eyes as she gulped down the rest of her coffee. 

"Tomorrow Strange starts working with him," said Joan after a silence had stretched between them. Harley shook her head with disapproval. 

"Strange gives me the creeps. If it were up to me, I wouldn't let him in a five miles radius of our patients. He's just another Johnathan Crane trying to do his experiments," she spat. Joan sighed and sipped her coffee. 

"Unfortunately there is nothing we can do about it. Don't stay here too long. You might end up like the inmates," Joan remarked before standing up and grabbing her purse. Harley chuckled wryly and waved her off. 

"Yeah, thanks, Joan," she said as her door closed. She sat back and pulled the Queen of Hearts card from her jacket. She ran her thumb over it and stared at the woman staring back at her. With a sigh, she put it down on her desk and wiggled her computer's mouse. Another message in need of deciphering. 

_ **Jack of Hearts meaning **_

> _If the consultant is a man, the Jack of hearts indicates the venue of a good friend to talk about his/her romantic issues._
> 
> _In any case, the Jack of hearts represents a young man with light hair, looking for someone and to start a relationship. It can be a friend or a suitor._

Harley sat back, feeling more confused than she did when she first saw the card. The meaning was plain and simple. A lover. But what that meant for her and why the Joker had used it was still unclear. Was he trying unnerve her by killing what he assumed was her lover? Or was Cash himself being taunted by thinking he could be with someone like her? Someone so closed off to love in the first place? 

She thought back on her conversations with the Joker over the month. Conversations about chaos, order, the system, God, religion, love, obsession and hatred. He had been wearing a straight jacket, something had happened with his orderlies trying to make him take his medication. 

_What is your opinion on someone like God? _

_Harley, Harley, what an interesting question. What do _you _think about God? _

_Well...I'm not going to lie to you, so, in all honesty, if he even exists, he's a fucking asshole. _

_Couldn't agree more. Religion as a whole is just one big scam to control people. Their order, their rules, destroy, and keep people in the dark, keep people from seeking truth. _

_And it's not just that, he's supposed to love us. I'm sorry, but I've never felt the love. _

_You're very insightful. Tell me, Harley, what do you think about, um, about love? _

_Well, I'm sure someone could love and be loved. I think most people have a need for companionship and understanding. A support system, if you will. I just don't think love is what they try to sell us. Hearts and candy and airport confessions. _

_Airport confessions? _

_I watch a lot of romantic comedies. _

_How sweet...so what is love?_

_..._

It was then Harley had realized his hands had loosened from his straight jacket. She had froze, but tried to carry on as normal. 

_...Sacrifice. What about you? _

_Me? Do you really think someone like _me_ can love? _

_According to all the research...no. But what do you think love is?_

_A fancy word for desire._

He hadn't attacked her that day. He could've if he wanted to. Harley found herself smiling at the conversation. It had been so...nice. Like a conversation she'd have over a coffee with a philosophy major. She found she also agreed with almost everything he said. She did believe in his philosophy, but she just wasn't extreme. She didn't believe chaos was exactly the answer, but she did agree more rules weren't the saving grace either. Besides, it was all the _rules and regulations _that stopped her from being the kind of therapist she had wanted to be. Free of medications and labeling and money. Now she was this. 

An overwhelming desire to speak to the Joker again, at least rant to him about how hard he had made her life swelled in her chest. She obviously wouldn't do that, she'd get in a lot of trouble. 

_You have rules. Personal rules. The only question is...what does it take to break them? _

She bit her lip and looked outside her window. The protesters had wandered away for the night. She could make a break for it. Although, who knew how dangerous the Narrows were at midnight? She checked her clock. God, it was midnight... 

She carefully pulled on her jacket and grabbed her purse before slowly pushing open her door. The halls were dark, only lit by dim red lights. There was something chilling about the scene. She clutched her bag close to her and looked out at the modern wing where the patients were kept. He was in there, in maximum security. 

To her dismay, she began to walk there. She padded through the darkness, the howls of the insane ricocheting through her mind. This was much more creepy in the night than the day. At any point she feared the cells would burst open and the inmates would pour out. 

"Miss Quinzel!" Whispered a guard as she came to the Joker's cell. She froze and looked up at him. He looked like he had just seen a ghost. 

"I...I just want to give him a piece of my mind. He ruined this week for me after all, I think I'm allowed that. If you guys can beat him up every other day like I know you do..." She growled low under her breath. The guard shifted under her intense glare and he nodded. 

"Fair enough..." He said. She nodded to him and came to the door. The guard shifted uncomfortably before he turned away and strode down the hall. 

She stood on her tiptoes and looked into the cell. What was she doing? She saw a shadow outlined by the red light outside. He had his back to the door, straight jacket on. She stared at him, an unease creeping through her stomach. She looked back outside to see the guard staring at her from down the hall. Did he know she was here? She looked back into the cell, his face was turned to her, she could see the outline of his scars in the dim black light. 

"Look who came to _visit_," he purred. Harley's heart thundered in her chest. This had been a bad idea. Why had she done this? Had she really missed his company that much? Had the press and protests really made her feel that ostracized and stressed out she turned to the Joker for pleasant conversation? It appeared so. 

"What are you planning?" She croaked. The Joker smirked, the shadow of his form in the darkness laying down onto his cot. He sighed dramatically. 

"Me? _Planning_? You got the wrong guy doc...however I am _flattered you came," _he drawled. Harley gulped and hung her head. 

"Did you, _heheh_...did you miss me or something?" He asked, sitting up again. She clenched her jaw. Hearing it said so plainly slapped her in the face. She...did miss him. Or at least their conversations. 

"You broke a rule coming here didn't you?" He now seemed excited, a small, raspy giggle shooting out of him. Her heart pounded in her ears. This was a mistake. She needed to get away from here. 

"I came to return something to you," she spat. She ripped the Queen of Hearts card out of her jacket and flicked it through the bars in the window. She watched as he looked down and studied the card. Slowly a laughter bubbled up from the pit of his stomach until it was uncontrollable and pierced her soul. The guard strode over and banged on the door, but he wouldn't stop. 

"I'd get out of here if I were you Harleen," snapped the guard, his voice almost drowned out by the Joker's wicked cackles. Harley faltered and stared at the door, his laughter racking her brain. She let out a shaking breath and nodded. The laughter seemed to chase after her as she half ran, half walked through the halls of Arkham. She'd take a day off. It was all getting too much. She wouldn't be able to sleep that night, falling into fitful dreams of laughter, of running, and a pulsing red light. 

* * *

Gordon sat in his police cruiser, an unlikely partner by his side since no one else had wanted to give the forensic detective a ride. He glanced over at Edward Nygma and cleared his throat. 

"You sure your resources are credible?" He asked. Edward had done extensive research and had pooled together a list of people associated with Tony Zucco. Jim had to admit he was impressed with the detective's uncanny ability to solve those kinds of puzzles. He was a brilliant mind, and they were lucky he was ok their side instead of the dark. Gotham had a way of creating villains. A shudder went down Jim's spine as he thought of Harvey Dent like his kind so often did when left to its own thoughts. 

"Of course. If what I know is correct, Zucco will be conducting a drug deal tonight at the murder docks. A good thing we brought back up," he said. Jim grunted and nodded along. 

"Crime scenes and evidence are just one big puzzle, I like puzzles," added Edward after a silence. Jim smiled at him. 

"Well, you're a good detective," he said with an enduring smile. Ed grinned at the praise and glanced out the window. 

"Oh we're here! Riddle me this, what stalks you by day, and is rid of by night? It hides in the darkness revealed by the light. A looming shade sprawled across the gravel you tread, the more illumination is given the more it is fed. It hides in the nightmares of body and mind. And if you dare seek it, only you will you find," he almost sang as Jim cut off his headlamps. Nothing but an amber street lamp illuminated a small patch of gravel as they approached the dock.

"...A shadow?" He murmured as he cut his engine off. Edward clapped, a large smile growing on his face. 

"Correct! Let's make like shadows and silently follow our lead," he whispered with uncontained excitement. As he was about to open the car door, Jim wheezed and grabbed him. 

"Slow down there bud...you're staying in here," he said. Edward shot him a distraught and frustrated look, but didn't argue. Gordon slowly rose out of the cruiser and readied his gun. Other police cars had surrounded the area. They were about to catch their guy. 

Gordon stalked through the warehouses, an eerie breeze carrying the smell of death towards him. Another cop joined him, gun drawn. There were two vans and a group of thugs. One of them had to be Zucco, and in fact, it was a whole drug bust. They could drag more of Moroni's men to black Gate where they belonged! He silently thanked Nygma for discovering this drug deal. 

He held up his hands and the police officers hid behind oil drums and box cars. Gordon listened in on the conversation between the sharks. The only reason they felt safe enough to do this back at their old playground at night time was because the Batman bad gone on the run. Gordon felt secretly guilty, but another part of him was so relieved that the mob was so bankrupt that they could barely operate. It wouldn't be long before they would be dismantled all together. 

That is unless the new DA to be elected soon would find themselves in the mob's payroll. Gordon shook away his thoughts and turned his attention back to the gangsters just a yard away. 

"Ugh, this is the good shit," a gruff man practically moaned. A few chuckles. 

"So what's the final verdict?" Another nasty voice croaked. Murmurs. 

"Boss wants good relations with the Slavs," said a smoother voice, a little rough around the edges, but definitely more appealing than the last. 

"Didn't you use to work for Moroni?" 

"Moroni's old news. He's licking his wounds after that clown made a fool out of him. My boss is going to take this city back and run it properly this time." That had to be Zucco. So he wasn't working for Salvatore Moroni. Who was this new player to the field? 

"Well tell your boss that we approve," he said. Gordon decided it was now or never. He signaled another one of his officers before shooting his gun up. 

"Shit!" 

"Police!" He roared. The other cops shot out and gave a round of bullets. The monsters dashed out of the open, some making their way back to their vans to get away. 

"Tires!" ordered as Jim as he shot a man in the foot, before ducking back undercover. The van wheels popped. Bullets screamed through the once silent night and another van screeched away. 

"Don't let Zucco get away!" He snarled. He left most of his task force to deal with the mobsters and sprinted back to his cruiser. Edward bolted upright when Gordon flung himself into the car and started it. Police dogs were unleashed on the scene, ripping through gangsters and pulling them to the ground.

Gordon sped off after the second van. He had to do this! As he does through the docks and empty back allies after the van, a cloud of icy mist blasted from the back of the truck. 

"Watch out!" Cried Edward as Gordon spun out of control and hit a dumpster. Quickly, he backed up to regain ground, but when the mist cleared, the van was gone. 

"Dammit!" He snarled. Edward wriggled with an excited frustration. 

"He's not working for Moroni," growled Gordon as tried to follow any tracks from his vague position in the car. Edward shot him a look. 

"Really? He used to...who does he work for now?" He asked. Gordon shrugged. 

"I'm sure you could figure that out. He's a new player to the mob though. That's what this drug deal was all about," he said. They traipsed through the back roads for what felt like hours before finally arriving at the van. It had been left behind in a hurry. 

"Oh perfect!" Exclaimed Nygma. Gordon didn't question him, he also saw the value in the van. At least they weren't completely leaving empty handed. 

"I'm sure the more we dig, the more we'll find out," murmured Gordon. He was frustrated he had once again failed to catch Zucco, once again failed Richard, but at least he had something to show for his efforts. 

"Alright, I'll get this towed to the station and Nygma, you'll run as many searches for evidence. Finger prints, calling cards, any kind of DNA, I want it," he ordered. Edward grinned and nodded with new found excitement. A dread filled Gordon. Who was this new mobster trying to raise the gangs back from the ashes? Whoever it was, Gordon was scared he'd be formidable. Gotham had a way of making someone formidable and dangerous. It had its ways. 

* * *

The CCTV camera high in the corner of the cell saw many things. It had seen many sessions, and many terrible beatings and at least one murder. The CCTV looked on wordlessly. Silently filming everything it laid it's vacant black eye upon. 

Right now it watched as a man in a straight jacket sat in wait, shoulders hunched, tongue darting out ever so subtly to prod at his scars. His hands, trapped inside tight white cloth and chains, seemed to rove about, trying to find a split seem to tear through. 

The CCTV watched as the man, the infamous terrorist, the Joker, stared fixedly at the door, a stern frown on his face. He was deep in thought. The CCTV camera could not wonder or ponder what the Joker was thinking about. What the Joker was planning. It only watched. 

It watched as the door unbolted and esteemed Dr. Hugo Strange walked in. The CCTV had seen many things, had known of the scandals, but could speak not. Only watch, record, and listen. 

_"Hello patient 4-4-7-9. We meet at last." _

_"I was wondering when they'd send in a real doctor..." _

_"Hm...yes. They had made a mistake when they let doctor Quinzel over see you. People like you need a firm hand stifle their violent impulses," _

The CCTV watched as a vicious and shrill laughter peeled out from the Joker and he was going back into his chair. The esteemed Hugo Strange merely sighed and wagged his finger. The Joker giggled and imitated him with his head, before snickering. 

_"So what do you have planned doc?" _

_"I'm going to help you forget your past self and rebuild yourself through guided therapy. The only way to fix you, is to remake you into a new, better person," _

_"That sounds very interesting...but what if I don't want to do that?" _

_"I'm afraid you don't exactly have a choice...you're in my care now." _

_"Mm...a while ago, doctor Quinzel told me that a man like me had to want to be fixed..." _

_"Well, Doctor Quinzel is a foolish woman to ever think someone like you could change willingly," _

_"Rrrright..." _

_"So welcome to my experiment patient 4-4-7-9. My nurse will strap you down onto the table while I bring in the equipment," _

The CCTV camera watched patiently, dutifully, as the doctor left the room. The Joker sat, brows furrowed in concentration. The camera caught a glisten of metal peeling through a seam in the back. 

A stern looking woman walked in, an ever present frown on her face as a couple of guards took up the Joker, unlocked the shackles at his feet. The woman had wheeled in an operating table for with leather straps. The guards helped her strap him down, the Joker didn't put up a fight. The camera watched with blank indifference, unaware and unable to be aware of the scheme up the Joker's long buckled sleeves. Unable to warn the doctors and guards that they had picked the wrong day. 

The guards left once they were satisfied he was locked down and the nurse stood to the side. Esteemed Dr. Hugo Strange marched back in carrying a table filled with medical equipment and a computer. 

_"Dorothy can you help me hook him up?"_

_"Yes sir," _

_"Dorothy huh? That's a lovely name. You wouldn't happen to own a pair of red slippers by chance?" _

_"Don't talk to him,"_

_"Yes sir," _

_"... you're no fun, Harley would've laughed," _

_"Ok. What this will do is help me monitor your brain activity," _

_"And why aren't you recording this doc?" _

_"I will then deliver a powerful bilateral shock to your temples. We will do this procedure everyday until a sufficient amount of your memory is wiped," _

_"Sounds awfully dangerous..." _

_"Hm. We shall see." _

The CCTV camera watched on as electro pads were connected to the Joker's head and a computer was booted up. A pattern of a brain appeared on the monitor. 

_"Oh doc, this is embarrassing, since I'm all strapped but...I have to use the bathroom." _

_"Dorothy will you get our friend a Petrie dish?" _

_"Yes sir,"_

_"So obedient...I find obedience extremely boring. How do you stand it doc?" _

_"You will be quiet now," _

The esteemed Dr. Hugo Strange began to charge up the ECT rods, holding down the triggers to test their power. The Joker sighed dramatically. 

_"I...want to start now," _

_"I thought you needed to use the bathroom," _

_"Heheh...I want to start!" _

_"Ok! I'm thrilled to know you're so eager to begin," _

_"Come on Einstein, I ain't got all day," _

Dr. Hugo Strange approached the Joker, shocking rods in hand. He came behind him and forced a belt into the Joker's mouth. The Joker growled and bit down on it, a wicked grin on his face. 

The CCTV watched with inanimate indifference as the Joker's hand shot up from the table, out from the straight jacket and strap and grabbed with Dr. Strange's hand. Dr. Strange gave a yelp if shock and stumbled back as the Joker ripped one of the rods out from his hand. 

One of the belts came loose and Joker lunged out of the medical bed. Hugo gave a shout for help as the Joker grabbed him in a vice grip and dragged him onto the table. The CCTV could not do anything to help the doctor. It could only watch. 

_"Very clever getting me to dismiss my nurse,"_

"_I'm guessing we don't have a lot of time?" _

_"Get that thing away from me!" _

_"Shshshshshhhhh...soooo _talkative." 

The Joker gave a jarring shock to Hugo's collar bone, forcing him back onto the table. The Joker pulled the straps tight across his chest and legs. When he was done, he climbed on top of the table and squatted over Hugo's body, resting on the man's fat belly. He held up a shiv to Hugo's face.

_"I've been hearing some very troubling rumors about you Strange...patients going catatonic after your sessions, even deaths. None have been positive so far. You do a lot of _bad therapy._"_

_"Trial and error is the only way to improve a science," _

_"Mm...You know...I've never used one of these things before on someone...what's it like doc? Oh don't tell me, I'd rather see for myself," _

The Joker charged the rods before squeezing them onto Hugo's temples. Hugo let out a strangled scream as the Joker sent a jolt of electricity through his brain. The Joker laughed as his face turned cherry red, and his veins and eyes bulged. The Joker released him with a resigned sigh. The CCTV could not feel sick or in awe, so it only watched. 

_"Now...I'm sure we can find some kind of common ground, any interesting anecdotes you want to give me?" _

_"Arrrggghhh! You imbecile! You really...expect me to make a truce with a monster like you?" _

_"Well it's either that or—" _

He sent another shock jolting through Hugo's brain, this time longer. Hugo screamed again, shaking and jerking in his straps. The Joker giggled gleefully at the torture he conducted. 

_"Batman!" _

_"Where!!" _

A snarling cackle pealed out from the Joker as he threw his head back with cruel delight. 

_"Batman! I want to learn his secrets! I just have to perfect my methods and then!" _

_"Ahhh...I see...how interesting...do you want to find Batman?" _

_"I want to discover his identity!" _

_"Tsk tsk...maybe I could help you with that," _

_"Why would I need help from a freak like you? AAARRRRRGH!" _

He laughed another cruel, piercing shriek as he sent another wave of electricity through Strange's brain. 

_"I...want to draw Batman out of hiding. I want _you_ to um... to help me take over the asylum. Batman will come to us...and I'll give him to you to use as your little _experiment_," _

_"...how...how do I know you...you aren't... aren't lying?"_

_"Hugo, _Hugo, **Hugo. **_I'm a man of my word," _

_"...Get me...get me the hell, the hell off this...off this table," _

_"Atatatata...not until we have a deal..." _

_"...Do you really... really_ _ think I'm going to...to fall for your...your tricks?" _

_"Do you really want to pass up this opportunity?" _

_"...We have...a deal," _

_"Mmm...now we're talkin'. It'll_ _ be a pleasure workin' with you doc," _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop, so many villains. All in one chapter. 
> 
> Up next: Joker's plan is put into motion and Harley finds herself getting sucked further into the dark side. Richard takes matters into his own hands.


	5. Arkham Overran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time: Harley dealt with press backlash and pressure at work, Bruce met Richard, Gordon overheard the threat of a new mob boss, and Hugo joined the Joker in his thirst for chaos.
> 
> Now: The Joker's plans are put into action, Robin goes after Zucco, Batman comes out of retirement and Harley gets caught in the cross fire.

* * *

Harley sat hunched over in her desk. She had just left a board meeting and rather unfavorable regulations had been made. This was a living nightmare. Oh, the Protesters had finally backed off, but her horrors were far from over. 

Now she had to have another doctor sit in with her during her therapy sessions and evaluate her to make sure she wasn't doing anything inappropriate. Due to the second presence, the patients were far less inclined to talk to her. Even Betty had turned away from her. That was more because she felt personally betrayed though. 

Harley ached at the fact Betty had fallen back into her delusions. It always took one thing with these patients to make them then to their old habits again. One setback could trigger all their negative emotions and put them back months of therapy. The fact she had failed Betty was heart breaking and almost enough to make her straight up quit. She had to keep trying though.

She wouldn't let this stop her. She had to prove to people that she could do this, even with the backlash, even with the loss of faith. How easy it had been for everyone to start hating her. She felt like a measly old therapist again, getting looked into by insurance companies for not prescribing antidepressants to a person who was depressed due to the symptoms of their anxiety medication. 

She remembered her outburst back then when she was alone. That trial had almost driven her off the edge. God she hated the bureaucracy! 

What if she just...snapped? What if she just did things her way? What if she just stopped trying to prove herself worthy? Why did she have to? She knew she was capable of great things...and awful things. 

_I need to calm down. _She took a few deep breaths and ran her hand through her hair. Her usually tight bun was a mess of loose blonde strands. She almost had half the urge to take it out. 

She wanted so badly to run away, dive back into her covers and watch romantic comedies. She had held it together these past nightmarish weeks. The mere fact she hadn't let herself unravel was a miracle. She sighed and finally left her desk to go to the break room to make herself some coffee before clocking out. 

As she made her way down the hall, she watched as Dr. Strange poked his head out from the door of his office. She ducked behind a corner before he saw her and peaked out. Thinking he was in the clear, he left his office, carrying something. He checked behind his shoulder as if half expecting to be caught. Caught for what though? What did he have? It looked harmless enough. It was a bag of fertilizer and a TV remote. Harley frowned and let him pass. She looked out again and watched as he practically ran down the hall.

She followed behind him, sprinting as he turned a corner. She pressed herself against the wall. What was he up to? She peaked ahead and watched him swipe his ID to gain access to C hall. On his way to Maximum security? 

Harley followed as he closed the door slowly behind him. Waiting a few moments before she proceeded to give him a false sense of security. Why was she following him? She had no idea. Maybe it was because he was doing something suspicious and she wanted to catch him red handed. Maybe then someone who actually deserved to be protested would get what he fucking deserved. It was an open secret he used unethical therapy methods, but no one, especially not Jeremiah did anything about it. Maybe if she caught him giving supplies to someone she could do something? Or maybe...maybe she just wanted some excitement. She found it was both. 

As she crept down C hall, keeping her footfalls light as she followed behind the doctor at a nice distance. She'd only move once he had turned a corner and was out of sight. Then she'd sprint to catch up and repeat the process. She knew by now he was heading to D hall. 

She began to put two and two together. He was the Joker's doctor now...going to D hall with fertilizer and a TV remote. _Correct me if I'm wrong but you can make a bomb out of fertilizer right? _Someone like the Joker could. 

She paled when she realized what must have been happening. The Joker had been out of his cell before. Dr. Strange had wanted to be the Joker's therapist before her and had also volunteered for the job. He had been eager to take over for her and was now delivering bomb supplies to him? They were the ones in cahoots! She gasped, another realization also dawning her. If Strange was working for the Joker...she was in danger if he found out she was following him! 

She paled, a sick dread filling her stomach and she whirled around, ready to make a break for it. She came nose to nose with a stern woman. Dorothy.

"Going somewhere Dr. Quinzel?" She asked tautly. Harley felt herself holding her breath. She feigned innocence and smiled politely. 

"Just...exercising..." She murmured, forcing herself not to look behind her. Dorothy stepped forward until their noses were practically touching. 

"See anything interesting?" She asked. Harley gulped and shook her head. Now she knew she was right. 

"Of course not, nothing interesting ever happens at Arkham," she said with a dumb smile. Dorothy narrowed her eyes at Harley and lifted her chin. The two stared at each other, before Dorothy smirked. 

"Good. Go home Quinzel," she said softly. Harley nodded quickly before darting last Dorothy and racing through the halls. She swiped through multiple doors before finally making it back to the Gothic office center. 

She flew down the stairs and flung herself out from the lobby. She didn't stop. She ran and she ran, her hot pants for air fogging up in the crisp night. She sprinted until she had made it to the train station, and even then, she felt her heart had not stopped there. 

Something bad was happening. Something big. She just knew the Joker was going to make a move soon. Did she even want to be there for it? What would she do? Take a day off? She didn't have time to take a day off! She needed to be there everyday, if she wasn't her patients would miss out on their treatment and there would be a setback. One setback for patients like these were the worst! She couldn't just not go to work. 

She ran a hand through her hair. For the first time since dealing with the Joker, she felt _scared. _It wasn't necessarily the Joker either. He was one thing...but she had always been creeped out by Dr. Strange...this had just solidified her fears. 

And then, as she stepped off her bus and made her way to her apartment...she got _mad. _So it was ok for Dr. Strange to have open secrets about the fact he tortured his patients, but she couldn't bribe her patients to get them to take their medicine? It was ok for pieces of shit like Dr. Strange to conspire with patients with zero backlash and get a slap on the wrist while _she _got put under intense scrutiny, and media backlash? The double fucking standards! 

Harley felt like a tightly wrung rubber band. As soon as she closed her door...the weight of the past two weeks and then this new scandal thrown into her face...made that tight rubber band _snap. _

As soon as she closed her door, she felt her anger boil over, all her anger. Hot tears sprung in her eyes and her body was vibrating with uncontained emotion. A scream pealed out from her lips and she shook her hands as if they had been burnt. 

"It's not fair! _It's not fucking fair!" _she cried, hitting her wall. Her hand stung from the pain but she could hardly pay attention to it. 

"_Fuck Strange! Fuck Jeremiah! Fuck _Arkham!" She cursed. She staggered through her apartment and grabbed anything in her way. Flashes of red and hot twists in her gut guided her hands. She threw down a vase, the glass shattering at her feet. It felt _good. _

With newfound, boiling rage, she stormed into her kitchen and ripped open a cabinet, tears streaming down her face. She dragged her white plates out from the cabinet and smashed them into the counter and floor. Glass shattered around her, the shards skittering across the ground, some cutting into her hands. She stepped over it and let out another wail of righteous anger. 

"Fuck them all!" She screamed as she grabbed a wine glass. She threw it hard into the kitchen wall. It shattered with a loud clatter that ricocheted through her mind. The destruction tasted so sweet! She relished it and raced into her living room. With a howl, she yanked down her curtains from the windows and threw a framed mirror onto the ground. The mirror shattered around her feet and she let herself laugh wickedly. She felt _strong _for once! Like she didn't have to keep her head down and play by the rules. Somewhere deep in her mind she could almost hear Mr. J cheering her on. 

For the first time in a long, long while, she felt a release. She sobbed and stumbled her way into the bathroom. Harley ripped her clothes off and threw them to the floor. Her fingers were dripping with her own blood as she fumbled with the tub's nozzles. Water gushed out and she rolled into her bathtub. 

Another anguished scream erupted from her now that she felt even more vulnerable. She wrapped her hands around her neck and dragged them down the length of her body, nails dragging down her skin until it was red and smarting. 

Two weeks. Two weeks of this shit. Bombarded with accusation after regulation after setbacks after _everything. _And now her life or worse, _career, _was being threatened too? It had officially been the straw to break the camel's back. She wanted to gauge out Dr. Arkham's eyes. She wanted to rip Hugo's stupid piggish nose off of his stupid piggish face! 

She plugged her nose and submerged herself under the bath water to calm herself down. Reel herself back in. When her lungs were practically bursting, she resurfaced and gasped for air. She splashed her face and let out another pitiful sob. Harley then drained the bath water, and sat in it as she cried and the water emptied around her. Finally when she sat naked and shaking in the tub, she heaved herself out and left her bathroom, still dripping wet. 

Her skin prickled with goosebumps in the cold as she walked through her small apartment. A whimper left her as she took in her destruction. The shattered plates, mirror, glasses. The torn curtains, tossed pillows. Her bleeding hand. She swallowed back her tears and roughly wiped her face. With some resolve, feeling the high of her breakdown leave her, Harley made her way into the kitchen. She picked across the glass, some shards cutting into her foot. 

With an empty sigh she dragged out her first aid kit and went to her bedroom. She wrapped her hand in gauze, and cleaned her feet. Finally...she laid down and wrapped her duvet around her. Her body shook violently as she hiccuped away her sobs. Eventually...she fell asleep like that. Shivering and letting silent tears roll down her cheeks. 

* * *

It was late. Too late for a fourteen year old boy to be out, but he had been staking out the club for a few nights now. Richard had found a boy in the Narrows about to shoot up heroine. The boy was nice enough, mostly through the fog of his high. 

Richard had bought him a soda and decided to befriend him. He knew that from what he had been told by Gordon, Zucco was in the heroine business. He stalked the boy after that, and if they ever crossed paths, Richard offered to buy him some candy or some cola. 

One night he caught the boy in the act of buying his drug while sitting on the rooftop of a crumbling apartment complex. He licked his lips with new excitement. A new target. He stopped following the boy and wasting money on someone else's snacks. He then followed the drug dealer. He made sure to stay more inconspicuous this time. And then, soon enough, he found the supplier. New target. The supplier was much more perceptive and they caught him one night. 

He ran. Oh how he ran that night. But...he knew their movements. So he came back three nights later. Then he found the club. It was an old theatre with blacked out windows. A vintage blue neon sign hung from the roof, reading _Iceberg Lounge. _

Richard had watched. No more leads, until one night...Zucco walked out with two larger men and entered a car. A cruel kind of excitement had filled him that night. He was going to kill him. That was his plan. He had a switchblade knife he had taken from his father, still deep in a coma and not recovering anytime fast. Yes. Tony Zucco would die.

Tonight.

Richard's heart leaped into his throat as the club opened and he stepped out. There he was. Just across the street. This time, he was alone. There wasn't a car. He was just taking a smoke break outside in the alley. Rich moved out from behind the dumpster he hid behind and made his way for the street. 

He let a crowd sweep him away and hide him as they crossed the street. As they passed the Iceberg lounge, he hung back and twisted behind a wall. He'd circle around the building and get him while his back was turned. Catch him with his pants down as the old phrase went. As he crept forward he had a creeping sensation that someone was watching him. He looked behind him, above him and around him, but no one. It would just be him and Zucco. As he rounded the corner, he saw the man, leaning against the club's dumpster. A cloud of smoke was blown from his lips and obscured his face. He pulled up his hood and rose his scarf up to hide his face, nothing but his eyes were showing. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid his blade out from his leather jacket. He let out a whistle and tossed a rock out before darting back behind the wall. 

"Hey, who's there?" He growled. Richard felt a sick excitement fill him as he practically vibrated with anticipation. The creeping sensation of being watched filled him again and he swallowed. There was someone else there, he knew it. 

"Alright listen fucker, I ain't playing games," he snarled. Richard shook off his premonitions and gripped his knife. He heard the crunch of Tony's boots across the cracked asphalt as he picked his way through the alley and a gun cock. Richard stood up to his full height and clenched his jaw. He had never done this before, but he knew he could do it. He had to. It was either this or wait for cops to do it for him, and they weren't getting anywhere. No matter how much he respected Gordon. Criminals were always one step ahead. 

"You better get your ass out here, I ain't playing games!" He snarled. Richard bit back a scoff. He was tired of being underestimated. Of being told he was too young. When Zucco rounded the corner and wielded his gun, Richard reacted. He shoved his hand and crashed his elbow against Zucco's nose. A _**bang **_cut through the night as Richard kicked Tony away. Rich hissed with pain as the bullet grazed his chest, but he fought through it. 

The man was bigger and wrestled Richard to the ground.

"Think your tough, you son of a bitch?" He spat, drawing his gun. Richard grabbed his hand and struggled against him. 

"You're a filthy piece of shit," he growled as he kneed Tony in the crotch. Tony snarled, but before he could shoot him, Richard had his knife prodding his throat. He snarled as Tony pulled his scarf down. 

"You, you're that kid from the circus," he growled, his breath hitching as Richard forced the blade harder against his Adam's apple. 

"Then you know what you did. And why you deserve to die," he growled. Tony laughed in his face, his fowl breath making Richard cringe. He had to get out of this. He couldn't let this man overpower him again! He pulled this knife away and stabbed Tony in the shoulder. He cried out and stumbled back, giving Richard the leeway to jump up to his feet and push him against the wall. He drove his knife again with vicious ferocity into Zucco's leg, a vengeful hatred filling him. He wanted Zucco dead. 

Tony flung him back and drew his gun, but his aim was off and Rich was too fast for him. He kicked his arm and the gun went skittering across the ground.

"I'm not weak," he growled, although his voice did crack when he uttered the words. He grabbed Zucco by the jacket and pushed him back against the wall. It was quite the image, a fourteen year old pressing a grown mobster up against a wall with a knife to his throat. 

He clenched his jaw as he pressed the switchblade up to his throat. Tony furrowed his brow as a realization dawned on him that tonight might just be his end. Richard's lip trembled. _If you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remain the same. _This wasn't justice...and if his mom knew what he was doing she would be appalled, not honored. His eyes welled as he fought with his desire to see Zucco get what he deserved, and with what he knew in his heart was wrong. He wasn't a murderer. 

Richard snarled and pushed himself away from Tony. Zucco gave a snarling laughter and stumbled away from him. 

"Yeah kid, you are weak," he taunted. There was a _flap _of wind in the darkness of the alley and the shadows formed into something solid. Richard gasped. 

_**"But I'm not," **_snarled a deep, guttural, almost _demonic _voice, before Tony screamed. _The Batman _pounced out from the shadows and sent Zucco flying into the dumpster. With two swift strides he was upon him again, and the two went flying up into the night. 

_I need to get out of here! _A strong fear filled Richard at the sight of the legend before him. A legend that had supposedly died after the symbol of hope he had represented was soured. All Richard could think of as he raced out of the alley and through the crowded street was one thing: _run. _

And the fourteen year old boy ran and ran until he was two blocks away. Only then did he slow down, and only because he was out of breath. He had heard every rumor from the people who worked the Carnival. He knew, or at least he thought he knew, that Batman was just as dangerous as the criminals he supposedly kept at bay. Some part of Richard admired him despite it though. 

He sighed and sat down against a brick wall. He didn't go through with it... He hung his head and began to tear up. 

_**"You did the right thing," **_the voice growled from the shadows. Richard jumped, his head accidentally hitting the brick. He groaned from the pain and rubbed the back of his head. Fear stole his heart again, but this time he didn't run. Because this time, the Bat had followed him and that meant he had come for _him. _

Richard furrowed his brow with confusion. Wait, was Batman, _The Batman, _telling him he had done well? Suddenly, all his fears and second thoughts fell away. 

**_"What you did was dangerous. You could've gotten hurt," _**he growled again, stepping closer. Richard bared his teeth. Now he was just annoyed. Slowly he stood up, and it was then when the effect of the fight settled into him. He winced, his chest burning from having been grazed. 

"I did get hurt," he murmured. Batman approached him and took his arm. 

_**"Where?" **_Richard swallowed and tried to pull away but the Bat's grip was too strong. 

"Tried to shoot me, barely hit," he murmured. Batman let go. Why was he being so...gentle? This was something Richard had never expected. Richard glanced down and put his hand to his chest. He whimpered when he realized he had been _shot. _His breath hitched. 

_**"You shouldn't have gone after him alone," **_he reprimanded. Richard sighed in exasperation. 

"So you're enforcing the rules now?" He growled, or at least tried to growl. It came off more as a whimper now that he found himself panicking over the blood seeping from his chest. The Batman cocked his head as he studied the young boy before him. 

_**"I used to be like you...and I know the path you're going down, and I know...I know better than anyone it shouldn't be taken alone," **_he said. Richard looked up at him. 

"What do you mean?" He asked. Batman looked over his shoulder. 

_ **"You're hurt. Let me take you somewhere we can fix you up." **_Before waiting for an answer, Batman swooped Richard into his arms and looked up. Richard gave a shout as they were hoisted off the ground from a grappling hook. 

"What did you do to Zucco?" 

_ **"Left him somewhere some friends could find him," ** _

"Thank you..." 

* * *

When Harley went to work the next morning, she felt a rising guilt swell in her. What for? The fact she had lost it. She had let her emotions overwhelm her. She had had a _break down _the likes of which rivaled that of her mother. 

She had tried her whole life to repress her emotions, her love, her rage, her excitement. She had tried to distance herself from what her mom had put her through and the traits that had been engrained in her. But last night...when she had let herself fly off the handle...it had felt _good. _Like some kind of drug. That was the scariest thing. Was that what it felt like for her mom? 

Harley was isolating herself. No one really noticed, no one really paid all that much attention unless they were checking her out or giving her orders. She was liked because she didn't step on toes, she kept her head down, but no one made efforts to be her friend. The men admired her from afar. She really was lonely. 

No one cared. They only cared enough to not be labeled a sociopath. Hence why she got questioned about her bandaged hands. She gave generic excuses, not about to explain the fact she had broken down. They would only pretend to care anyway. 

As she sat at her desk, she found herself missing the company of the Joker. She could talk about how fucked up the media was, or how stupid mob mentality was and why people shouldn't fall for it, and why they did in the first place. He'd say something funny or insightful about society or herself. He was the only one who talked to her like she was capable of thinking. _That's kind of sad. _

No. No. She didn't miss the company of the man who had sent her down this spiral of despair in the first place. Even if he was the one thing that brought some semblance of excitement to her life. No. That was over. Their short friendship, if you could even call it that, ended when he planted Cash's body in her office to get rid of her. And she had ended her side of the relationship when she gave him back the queen of cards. 

Slowly she planted her head on her desk and groaned. Her treacherous brain and its treacherous emotion and thoughts! Her door creaked open and she sighed. 

"Harley? Is everything ok?" Asked Joan. Harley peered up at Joan and plastered a fake smile on her face. 

"Fine, I'm fine." She murmured. Joan nodded and came to sit down. 

"I'm worried about you. I'm worried that all this is getting too overwhelming for you. You're too young to go through this right now, so early in your career," she said sympathetically. Harley shrugged and sat back in her desk. 

"Why was I given Crane's job and office? Was it because I was the best person to take over the job or did you just a need a warm body to sit and look pretty?" She murmured as she stared out her large window overlooking Gotham. Joan cleared her throat. 

"Because you are brilliant...but that's besides the point. Everyone breaks sometimes, and I just want to make sure you aren't going to do anything rash." She stated. Harley narrowed her eyes. 

"What do you mean?" She asked. Joan looked at her hands. 

"Harley you haven't been acting like yourself," she said. Harley looked down at her hands and swallowed. 

"Who am I? Tell me who I am," she murmured. Joan cocked her head and frowned at her. Harley rested her head on her fist and she rose her brows daringly. 

"You're...a doctor. An intelligent young woman with a bright future if you just—"

"—Keep my head down and work hard. Right. Nothing I do is ever good enough for these people...you know, one time...the Joker said I should just...stop trying to please everyone. He's right," she mumbled, more to herself than anything. Joan frowned. 

"Harley, I'm worried. Ever since you took on the Joker you've been spiraling," she said. Harley flinched and stood up. 

"I'm getting a coffee. Good talk," she grunted before slipping out of her office. As she stormed down the halls she felt her chest heating up, a welling need to explode filling her. She breezed into the break room and poured herself a coffee. Before letting it cool down, she gulped it down, burning her mouth. Anything to quell her anger. Her growing lust for destruction. 

"Dr. Quinzel. Fancy seeing you in here after cooping yourself up in your office," said Dr. Arkham. She shot him a glare. 

"Yes, I was feeling sluggish," she murmured. Jeremiah nodded and he sighed. 

"How are your patients doing?" He asked. Harley turned her back to him and bared her teeth. 

"Could be better. Ever since the joker hysteria they've been on edge," she admitted. Jeremiah nodded solemnly. 

"Yes, I fear he's planning something," he said. Harley narrowed her eyes. 

"Maybe you should ask his doctor," she hinted. A movement caught her eye and she paled at the sight of Dorothy in the corner of the break room. She swallowed and turned back to Arkham. 

"What are you implying?" He asked. She glanced at him, then at Dorothy. 

"Nothing. Nothing at all," she said. Dorothy nodded and turned back to her newspaper. Harley sighed and waved Dr. Arkham off before slipping out of the break room. 

The next few hours were spent with her patients. Four miserable hours. She wanted to strangle Garth. She had come so close to slapping him across the face, but of course, she wouldn't. She wasn't a violent person, or, she'd like to believe she wasn't. Not anymore at least. Besides, she was being evaluated. 

She decided to stay late to finish paperwork. Really it was because her apartment was a train wreck and she had been too overwhelmed to clean it. She still was. 

When finally, she felt resolved to leave her office and clock out, she slipped out and made her way down the hall. 

Then the lights cut out. That wasn't right. The lights cut out at eleven o'clock, it had only been ten. Even the red lights were off. She was completely plummeted into darkness. Then there were several _**booming **_loud noises that vibrated the halls and shook the floor. Harley stumbled and tried to keep her balance. 

"Fuck," she breathed. Several nurses and orderlies were crowding the lobby. The doors were bolted closed...no one could get out. What was going on? There were several loud _**WAHHS **_in the panicked air and Harley was filled with an icy dread as she realized just what was happening. The prison doors had been opened. The Joker was making his move. 

Fear gripped her and she took to hiding in the nearest bathroom. Her office was too close to the A hall, and if all the prisoners had been released, then it would be hopeless and stupid to hide there. 

_"Good evening Arkham Asylum. Tonight we're going to play a game," _the nasally, gravelly voice of the _Joker _crackled over the loud speaker and Harley's breath caught in her throat. 

_"To win the game, you have to find the one open exit. Oh and uh, _**not die**_. There's a lot of angry inmates who also want to leave...or enact some twisted revenge on their, um, orderlies and guards. Good luck!"_ He then gave a haunting, psychotic laughter that filled Harley's mind as she cowered in the girl's bathroom. _Is this the kind of excitement you wanted? _She was terrified. If she had said something...if she had tipped the guards off about Dr. Hugo, this could've been avoided but...but she had wanted to see what would happen. Some sick part of her relished in the challenge. 

At first she was appalled when this thought struck her. Then, she realized that's the kind of attitude she'd need to have to escape. _You have rules. Personal rules. The only question is, what does it take to break them? _Harley swallowed when she realized the nature of this game. 

She'd have to be smart. What was the one thing you couldn't seal off? A door was too easy. It couldn't be a door. The Joker didn't like easy things unless they exclusively benefitted him. He wouldn't want to make it easy for everyone else. The red lights pulsed outside and she listened as screams bounced off the halls. This was a living nightmare. 

She had to focus. The screams were too loud. People would find her in the restroom. That's probably the first place some inmates would look if they really had it out for people. Her eyes flew open when she realized Walker would be out of his cell. She needed to get out of here! If she made a break for it, she could get to her office. What would she do then? 

A breeze graced her and her eyes drifted up. Vents. The ventilation system! There was a large grate in her office. She could climb onto her desk and get out! _Good thinking! _Slowly she peaked out of the bathroom. The hall was empty, but she could hear screams just below her. There was a sick laughter as an inmate dragged a nurse into the break room.

Harley took the chance and slipped out of the bathroom as quietly as possible. She sprinted down the hall, thankful she didn't wear loud heels. She raced through the halls, which seemed to go on forever. An inmate stalked out of a corner and she darted under the cover of a janitors cart. She grabbed a hammer and held it close to her chest. Self defense. As the inmate stalked closer she crept around the cart as he passed. 

A breath of relief escaped her when he walked right past and she broke out into a run again. He was probably one of the more mentally vacant inmates.

Finally, she made it to her office. She fling the door open and staggered inside. 

_"I was wondering when you'd join me doctor Quinzel." _a sickly voice said. Harley froze when she saw the man sitting in her chair. Crane. 

"Please take a seat," he said again. When she remained standing he clucked his tongue disapprovingly and stood up. Harley gripped the hammer in her hand, ready to defend herself if necessary. 

"Liking the view in my office doctor Quinzel?" He asked. Harley clenched her jaw and stepped back, trying to calculate how safe making a break for the door would be. Going out there wasn't exactly the best option. She needed to get to that vent. Her eyes darted from Crane to the grate and back again. He seemed to catch her observation and chuckled darkly. 

"Oh Harleen, you're so precious. It's a shame you never gave me a chance," he crooned as he approached her. She stepped back and frowned at him. 

"But of course, I'm not here for a personal call," he grunted as he pulled something out from a sack. His scarecrow mask. Harley's eyes went wide and she rushed for the door. He growled and lunged for her, pulling her away. For such a lanky man, he was surprisingly strong and easily threw her to the ground. Harley screamed and crawled to her desk. As Crane reached for her she swung her hammer, knocking his hand. 

He snarled and a mist shot out from his sleeve and hit her face. She flew back against the window, an unearthly scream erupting from her as her reality warped around her. 

_"Poor Harleen, strung up so tight." _A demonic voice filled her ears and she frantically looked around. When she saw the scarecrow mask, she could see it melting and his feet crunching on broken glass. 

_"Could've been successful if it weren't for how diabolical she really was." _The scarecrow's voice began to warp into the roaring noise of the press screaming at her as she pathetically crawled away from the monster. It didn't take much for him to grab her from behind and hoist her up. 

_Want my advice? You need to loosen up," _the voice warped into the tone of her mother and at _that_ _sound_, she completely lost it.

With an enraged scream, she swung her fist, hammer intact and bludgeoned the monster across the face. When he went down, she roared and straddled him. Crane wrestled the hammer out of her hand, but that didn't stop her from plummeting her fists into his face with a barrage of pure, unbridled, fear induced rage. 

He pushed her off and stumbled to his feet, hollering with pain as he fled her. Harley staggered to her feet, and tried to wipe her face. The lights of the city outside her window flickered like flames and everything looked contorted and warped. She shook her head as she tried to think past the cloud of fear taking her. 

Grate. Harley stumbled forward and fell. Her hands roamed for the hammer and when her fingers snagged it she crashed it against the grate and pulled at the nails. Her brain was working against her. Fingers were coming out of the grate, but she knew through drug induced terror that it was a hallucination.

Harley pulled the grate off and flung clumsily. She doubled over to catch her breath as her vision blurred and distorted. Hands reached for her as she dove into the vent and began to climb. 

She slapped her face as she tried to rid herself of the fear toxin, but it was already in her system. What was she going to do? It hadn't been an extremely strong dose, but it was definitely getting to her. 

Harley crawled through the vents, hearing shrieks of terror, murder and howls of insanity resound through the floors. As she pulled herself through and looked down on a grate, she saw one of her patients break the neck of Keisha before slipping his pants down. Harley felt a sick terror fill her that she couldn't distinguish from her own fear or the drug. 

She quickly moved on before she witnessed anymore. The vent was long. Windy. Warped. Sometimes it seemed to spiral on its own, sometimes it became distorted. Sometimes faces appeared. Sometimes she heard the screams of her mother below her. Sometimes she was walking on glass. 

Tears rolled down her eyes which grew heavy as she kept crawling on. Her vision was growing blurry. She could barely breath because she was breathing so hard and heavily. Her muscles were tense, and a terror stricken sensation gripped her muscles. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, but there was no release that usually came with fear. It just kept building. 

She was lucky it wasn't a concentrated dose, Crane could only do so much with the tools he had. It would work slower, she needed to get out of here. Maybe go to the police, maybe they still had the cure. She wiped her face again and tried to control her breathing, but she just couldn't. 

One wrong step. Suddenly Harley was crashing through the ceiling. She screamed as she fell into a bathroom. Specifically a shower room. Her head cracked against the tile and she wailed in both pain and from the high of terror. 

Harley gripped her head and rolled onto her back. The bathroom was distorted, the coloring all wrong and the walls bent out of shape. She bit down a sob and climbed to her feet despite the ache in her head. She stumbled forward and looked around. She needed to get back in the vent. She could barely think, but she knew she needed to be back in those vents. The vents, while torturous and claustrophobic, were a million times safer than the monster that awaited her down here. 

She passed the mirror and froze. That wasn't her staring back. 

Harley's eyes widened as she looked into the distorted face of her mother. Bloodied and jaw agape. Harley stumbled back and screamed, hiding her face. 

_"Dearie? Is someone in here?"_ That was her mom's voice! Harley bared her teeth and gripped the hammer in her hand.

"You're. Supposed. To be. _Dead!" _she screamed as she lunged out from the stall and slung her hammer at the woman with her mother's voice and face. Her mother screamed and fell back as Harley grabbed her by the scalp. 

"Doctor Quinzel! Stop! It's me!" Cried her mother. Harley snarled and hoisted the woman up. She slammed her face against the mirror. When that didn't do the trick, Harley shattered the mirror with one strike of her hammer and slammed the face of her mother into it. She stumbled back before screaming and bludgeoning the woman's head in with her hammer. 

The two bodies fell down together as Harley began to sob. She shook the toxin away, trying in vain to clear her head. She saw a distorted...no...no...No, No, _No, No, **No! No! **_

"Betty!" She screamed. She couldn't stop screaming after that. She flung herself away from the body of her beloved patient and screamed, and wailed, and howled. Tears fell freely down her eyes. Blood covered her. She threw her jacket away and sobbed. The bathroom warped and so did Betty, distorting before her like some cruel game. 

Harley tried to force herself to calm down, but she couldn't. She flung herself out from the bathroom and screamed. The hall was pitch black if not for a throbbing, pulsing, red light. Bodies writhed in the corners of her vision, but when she turned, nothing was there. 

She needed to get out of here! This place was a nightmare! She saw an exit sign and she stumbled forward. When she went to try and open the door to the stair case, she found it locked. She bared her teeth and turned away down another hall. Where was she? 

She couldn't tell anymore. She was lost in Arkham Asylum, and it was hardly Arkham. Everything was so warped and twisted and her sense of direction was all off. Blood was sticking on her hands and clothes. She couldn't look at herself without a strong urge to throw up filling her. 

Harley looked down the hall and this time she wasn't hallucinating when she saw several inmates stalking down the hall, hollering loudly and shouting. She looked around, fear gripping her as she looked for somewhere to hide. 

She darted into a nearby room. It was a larger storage closet filled with medication, medical equipment, and the like. Her mind was fading. She knew that Arkham Asylum had been stocked with the Wayne Enterprise's cure for Crane's fear toxin. It didn't work immediately but it was worth giving a shot. With newfound vigor, she staggered towards the shelves of medicine.

By then, despite the warped reality that surrounded her, and the blurriness that fogged up her eyes, she had grown accustomed to the darkness. She found the box with the Wayne Enterprise Logo and grabbed one of the vials. 

She staggered to the equipment and grabbed a needle. With a clumsy fumble, she gave herself an immunization shot. It wouldn't work immediately, but it would keep her from dying. The hallucinations of her mother had stopped and now she just had an over dose of adrenaline.

Her vision returned and she could think more clearly. With a sigh, Harley sank to the floor. 

A nightmare. This was a nightmare. All thanks to one man... 

Her next course of action, she'd have to find an open stair well, or maybe open a window and try to climb. Put all those gymnastic classes to good use. That would be the most plausible. 

The door creaked open and a hum filled the stagnant air. Harley looked up to see a shadow of a familiar, gangly figure walk in with a spring in his step. Immediately she knew who had joined her in the supply room. And he was unrestrained. She tried to crawl under a table, but the flicker of movement seemed to catch his eye. His hum turned to a menacing chuckle. 

"Do my eyes deceive me?_" _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a doozy of a chapter! 
> 
> Up Next: Harley escapes Arkham, Batman joins the Joker's party.


	6. Waking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time we saw Harley have a breakdown, Richard met Batman, and then the Joker took over Arkham. 
> 
> This time: Joker and Harley have a little chat, they escape Arkham and the Batman joins the fun.

_Before the Assault on Arkham _

Bruce brought the kid to the outskirts of Gotham. He took the back roads to the opening of the Bat cave. He had called Alfred minutes ago to prepare him. Being on the run, Batman couldn't exactly just bring him to the hospital, and Bruce wouldn't allow himself to just drop him off. 

Who knows what kind of trouble the kid would get into? Bruce thought back on what he had witnessed in that alleyway. Richard fighting for both his life and the honor of his parents. He was surprisingly nimble, strong and skilled for such a young person. The acrobatics must've had something to do with it, but he knew how to fight. 

When they entered the Bat Cave, Bruce swung off of the pod and lifted Richard, who promptly swatted him away and hopped off himself. Bruce put up his hands. The scene was rather comical.

Here was a fourteen year old boy swatting away the help of Batman as he stumbled, bleeding into a dark wet cavern. 

"So this the base of operations...impressive...not too shabby for a year of absence," murmured Richard. Batman nodded curtly. He faltered when he realized that if Alfred were to come down, Richard would immediately know his identity. 

"How did you know I was going after Zucco?" He asked as he sat down on a table. Bruce glanced at him and noted it was the same examination table Rachel had laid on when she had been drugged by the fear toxin. When she was still alive...

Bruce glanced at Richard and frowned, before gliding towards the elevator. He pulled out his phone and texted Alfred to wait up. 

He turned back and pulled his cape off. He felt the urge to take off the mask, but he refrained. 

_**"Take off your shirt," **_he ordered. Richard eyed him, and small, wry chuckle puffing out of him. Bruce rolled his eyes at the childish implications. 

_**"Don't be immature." **_Richard rolled his eyes as if Bruce were his father and he pulled off his jacket and shirt. Blood dropped down his stomach and once Richard had finally set his eyes on the gnarled skin, his breath hitched and he gave a weak, strangled cry. 

Bruce shushed him and grabbed a first aid kit. 

"We're pretty far out of Gotham. I've been out here. Ya know, you set up shop awfully close to Bruce Wayne," he mused as Bruce cleaned his wound. Richard flinched as the rubbing alcohol stung his flesh. 

_**"Hold still," **_he chided. Richard clenched his jaw and laid back. He eyed Batman and frowned. 

"I only told Mr. Wayne I was going after Zucco. You've been retired and on the run and suddenly you pop up when I'm getting the jump on him?" He asked. Richard nodded knowingly as Batman ignored him. A small sigh escaped the caped crusader and he fixed the boy in a harsh glare. 

"And here's another thing...you told me you understood...that you used to be like me. Oh, as a plus plus, you're—_YOUCH!" _Richard squeaked when Bruce plucked his skin with a needle to stitch up his gnarled skin. He groaned and looked away. Bruce smiled softly, a small chuckle puffing from his nose. 

_**"...Where did you learn to fight?" **_he asked. Richard sighed as he tried not to watch his skin get sewed back together. 

"I...I took a lot of kickboxing. Some Krav Maga sprinkled in. I wanted to be more than like...an acrobat. So I became Boy Ninja...then one time, I got into a fight. Both sides got pretty badly hurt. Dad banned me from being Boy Ninja and from fighting, but I kept it up," he explained. Bruce glanced up. 

_**"It was impressive, but dangerous," **_he said. Richard nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. Our job is done though right?" He said. Batman tilted his head curiously. 

_**"Our?" **_he grunted. Richard rolled his eyes and smirked as Bruce snipped the thread away. 

"Sure. I loosened the lid on the jar and you opened it," he said. For the first time, Batman actually laughed out loud in armor. He quickly stifled his chuckles and he shook his head. Richard grinned. 

"So he does have emotions. Was beginning to wonder if you were in fact a human," he said as he rose. Bruce pushed him back down. 

_**"Rest," **_he ordered. 

"You're not my father," he grunted. Bruce sighed and nodded respectfully. 

_**"Do you have anywhere to go?" **_he asked. Richard clenched his jaw and sat back. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. 

"Honestly...no. I've been staying in a motel. Some of my parents colleagues have offered to take me in, but...I don't want to be anywhere around them. They're too...familiar you know?" He explained. Bruce frowned. 

_**"You've been alone?" **_he asked. Richard avoided his eyes. 

"I guess you could say that." An uncomfortable silence fell between them. No bone in Bruce's body wanted to allow the young kid to keep living in a motel with no one, but he'd have to take action as Bruce, not Batman. He glanced over Richard's wounds and he sighed. 

_**"Well you're fixed up. I'll take you back," **_he said. Richard sighed and stood up slowly. 

"Ok...thank you. No yeah, thank you. Heh, you know, I never in a million years imagined I would be within a five mile radius of Batman," he said with a widening grin. Bruce felt an enduring warmth for the boy and he smiled. 

"And I especially never imagined I'd be in _the _Batcave. This is actually pretty cool! I mean...nice setup. And thanks for helping me bring Tony to justice. I think we worked pretty good together. I beat their ass first, surprise them ya know, and then you finish the job, you could be like, my sidekick," he rambled as they climbed into the bat pod. Bruce shook his head. 

_**"Absolutely not, Dick," **_he grunted as they rode through the streets. Richard froze and shot Batman a glare, his previous warmth and giddiness turning to ice. 

When Batman pulled up to the Motel Richard pointed towards, he shot off. Without another word, he stormed into his room and slammed the door. 

Bruce was filled with confusion. He sighed. _Teenagers. _he thought before revving his bike and shooting off back towards his estate.

* * *

_"Do my eyes deceive me?" _

Harley's stomach clenched as an ice cold dread filled her. There was no use hiding anymore, so Harley staggered up to her feet and stumbled away from him. He was blocking the door. 

"Can't say I was expecting this, but, it's a _pleasant_ surprise." 

Her eyes darted around as she felt herself hyperventilating. Her body was shaking. The Joker tilted his head, a calculative smirk twitching at his lips as he watched. 

"What was that thing you used to say? Oh, I remember..._Doctor Harleen Quinzel overseeing patient 4-4-7-9,_" He purred as he slowly paced towards her. He was tall, even with his slouching shoulders. She realized just who she was standing against, he was no longer bound before her to a metal table and chair. He could've done anything he wanted. He moved like a cat on the prowl, his tongue darting over his lips. A snake testing the air. He could've kill her. 

"Go ahead...say it again, for old times sake," he said as they shifted around the table. He always stayed in front of the door. Trapping her. She gulped. 

"_Say it._" He demanded. She whimpered as she stared into his eyes. _Give him what he wants. _

"Doctor...Doctor Quinzel—"

"_—Harleeeeen—"_

"—Doctor _Harleen _Quinzel overseeing patient...patient 4-4-7-9..." She croaked. He grinned maliciously. 

"Such a complicated name. You know, it kind of reminds me of...the Harlequin. Has anyone ever told you that?" He asked. His casualness was cruel. 

"So why does everyone insist on calling you such a complicated name like _Harleen _and not a sweeter, simpler name like Harley. Harley is better. I like Harley better, don't you?" He teased.

Harley clambered away, putting herself between him and tables as he lazily prowled towards her. A low chuckle bubbled up from him as they locked eyes. Her forget-me-not blue eyes were wide with terror. He smirked and let his eyes rolled over her as he studied her. 

What was he looking for? Harley looked down. Her hands were slick in blood, her jacket was also wet with it. He licked his lips and grinned maliciously. She closed her eyes as a sinking grief struck her. 

"Well look at that... Someone's been _busyyy_. Harley, what have you _done_?" He crooned as he vaulted over the table between the them. She tried to take the chance to dash away, but he snatched her by the hair and yanked _hard. _

Harley screamed, and her eyes welled from the pain. The Joker shushed her, his hand clapping over her mouth as he pulled her against him. Her body was plunged in an ice water like terror as he pressed against her. She gasped for air, her breath hot against his hand. She gave a muffled whimper and he chuckled. Slowly, his fingers loosened out of her hair and he ran his hand through her blonde tresses. 

"Shshshshshhhh, don't be scared Harley, I'm not gonna hurt ya..._badly," _he growled into her neck. She whimpered and tried weakly to struggle against him. It was then that she became aware of him. Their bodies pressed together, his hand softly combing through her hair. He was incredibly _real. _His rippling muscles, his scars scraping against her skin, his straggly, straw blonde hair, and his warmth. The beat of his heart. Most of all, the smell of gunpowder. 

"I really wish I could've seen it...the things you must've done to get this _messy..._Tell me darlin', did it feel good?" He asked as his hand snaked from her mouth to squeeze around her neck. Harley choked, her body wriggling to break free of his hold. His hand let go of her hair and grabbed her arm. She yelped as he twisted it behind her back. 

"Oh come _on_ Harley, don't be coy, regale me with all the _thrilling details," _he growled. She moaned in distraught as he forced her to think of Betty Hally, her skull caved in by her hand. What was worse, when she had been in the high of her fear, there had been a small part of her that had revelled in it. Her eyes welled up at that fact. The fact she found destruction so thrilling...scared her. She let out a screaming sob and tried to rip herself away from him. 

"Shhhh, you don't want the inmates to find us do you?" He scolded like a parent to their misbehaving child. She tried to kick him but he slammed her head into a counter. She cried out as he dragged her back up. His arm enclosed around her into a headlock and he breathed in the scent of her hair. 

"P-...please, please, Mr. J, just, just let me go. Let me go!" She cried. He shushed her and swayed. There was a shout and scream outside of their room and the sound of someone gasping as blood squirted out of them. A thud. Harley paled. She realized the safest place she could be was in the Joker's arms. At that thought she began to laugh quietly and hopelessly. The Joker chuckled with her and nodded knowingly. 

"Ya know... I've missed our little one hour sessions together..." He whispered as his hand roamed back to her neck and gave a sadistic squeeze to her throat. She choked and he purred with content at the torture. 

"I think it's high time you heard how I got these scars, _doctor,_" he purred. She whimpered as he whipped her around to face him and slammed her against a wall. He grabbed both of her hands in one of his own and forced them above her head. He trapped her against the wall with his body, his hand slipping into his own pocket.

Harley clenched her jaw, her lips trembling. She tried to silently plead with him, widening her eyes and shaking her head. He chuckled and grabbed her chin. She flinched as a quiet _-schick- _alerted her to the fact he had a knife. He pressed the cool metal into the corner of her lip. A fat, crystalline tear rolled down her face and she squeezed her eyes closed. 

"Hey, hey, _look at me, _hey, _look _at me with those pretty blue eyes of yours, won't ya?" He growled. She swallowed and forced her eyes open. She glared into his black eyes. He licked his lips and smirked. 

"My mommy and daddy...they didn't like each other too much." He smacked his lips and leaned in, "So one day, daddy leaves. Usually he comes back but...this time..._tsk tsk_. He stays gone." Harley frowned, the cold metal of the knife stinging her cheek. 

"Mommy didn't like that...and she went _crazy_. She took it out on me. Told me it was my fault, told me I reminded her too much of _daddy_." Her eyes widened. This story. This story whispered to her, taunted her. What did he know about her? Not much surely. Surely he didn't know...

"One night...I was crying because mommy was _screaming_ and _yelling_ at me. Throwing dishes all around the house, throwing glasses at me. She notices and she asks, _why are you crying, you ain't got the right to be the victim_. So she comes at me with a knife and she says to me, she says..._smile for mommy_...and..." He grinned when he saw the horror stricken look on her face. 

He looked down at the knife, and then at her icy blue eyes that were wide with horror and he sighed dramatically, as if she were the one making him do this. She glared at him, a choked whimper escaping her as he started to press the blade against the corner of her lip. A blossom of pain erupted in her and she hissed. 

"_Boss! There you are! He's here!" _a man shouted as he raced into the room. Harley felt her heart thunder in her ears as the Joker stared down at her. He smiled and ran his hand through her hair again. Her eyes widened when she realized just what his motivations were. He grinned and looked back at the inmate spoiling his time with her. With a dramatic sigh, he pulled her off the wall. 

"Its about time, _isn' it?" _he snarled. He threw Harley to the ground, as if she were a used toy and he had already moved on to the next. A flood of relief hit her and she crawled away. He stopped by the door and turned back, a grin growing on his face. 

"It's been fun _puddin_'," he called, before following his goon out of the supply closet. 

Harley gasped as she tried to catch her breath. She felt both robbed of his company and relieved he was gone. 

_What the fuck are you doing!? He's gone, get the hell out of here! _At the goadings of her logical mind, she pulled herself up and made a break for it. 

* * *

Dr. Harleen Quinzel had always been a _distraction_. Even now, as the Joker's plan was falling into motion, she turned up with those pretty blue eyes of hers to tease him. 

Even now, as he loped through the Asylum to find the Batman, her smell was stuck to him. The smell of coffee, flowery shampoo and _blood. _

There was something dark in her heart and he was ever so intrigued by it. Something that peered out at him during all of their sessions, but was always quickly stifled. Something excitable and ready to pounce through the gates she hoisted up to keep it penned. A part of the Joker wanted to be the one to drag it out of her. 

Not right now though. Right now, he had a date with a crazed crusader. He'd have no time for _distractions. _No matter how fun it was to see those eyes glare up at him. 

"What are we gonna do about the Bat, boss?" One of his goons, a corrupted security guard, asked. Joker didn't respond. He didn't feel the need to explain himself to someone like John Doe number one. The goon was smart. Didn't ask anymore questions. He got the message. Good. 

"Did you get what I asked for?" asked the Joker as another one of his goons joined them. He had rallied around half of the inmates to his cause with promises that indulged in their delusions. Basically, he had a small little army. 

John Doe handed him an automatic pistol. The Joker checked the magazine and grinned. A sadistic excitement filled him and he glanced up at the goon and cocked the pistol. 

"Congratulations, you've served your purpose," he barked. John Doe's eyes widened with realization. 

"No—" before he could fight back, the Joker put a bullet between his eyes. The other goon swore but the Joker only giggled and waved his gun at the other goon. He pouted and slapped him lightly. 

"Don't worry! I like you," he said. The inmate sighed in relief and followed behind him. The Joker tongued his scars as they marched through the dark corridors, nothing but the red pulse of the night lights to guide them. 

He was bubbling with anticipation. What fun would the long game be if Batman wasn't there to play it with him? It would be pointless. While the Joker wasn't adverse to pointlessness, he was adverse to boring games. The Batman made things fun. Kept him on his toes. Challenged him to think two steps ahead. 

As of now, the Batman had taken the fall for Harvey Dent's madness and murder. He had hidden away, on the run from the cops. All for what? So Gotham wouldn't lose its mind to the two faced politicians? The Joker laughed at the thought. 

No, the Batman was incorruptible, and the media that cursed his name would soon be begging for his help. But first, he had to make sure Batman was a willing player. 

He and his new fangled henchmen shoved their way through the halls. Inmates parted for him as if he were Moses. Those that didn't were mowed down by his bullets. They marched into the Gothic wing of Arkham and the Joker made a beeline for Dr. Arkham's office. 

He threw open the door to find Dr. Hugo Strange waiting for him. He was setting up an examination table. 

"The Batman will be here soon, and we will catch him, no?" Said Hugo, the piggish man bubbling with excitement. The Joker ignored him and went to the intercom. 

"Good evening players. Having fun? We have a _very_ special guest joining us. He's been out of action for a year. So _do _make sure to make him feel _welcome, _for me won't ya?" He purred into the microphone. Hugo shot him a wary look as the Joker paced away from him. 

"Its been a pleasure, doc," he said as he took Hugo's black jacket from the coat hook. Hugo began to protest but the Joker was the one with a gun. 

"Leaving already? I thought you'd be more inclined to stick around and fight him," he said. The Joker rolled his eyes. Did he really have to explain himself to everyone? He could just kill Hugo now. However, Hugo was still useful. Didn't mean he wouldn't hurt him though. 

"That would make things too easy, wouldn't it? Say hello to the Bat for me," he said before squeezing the trigger. Hugo shouted as his knee was shot. The Joker reloaded his gun and stepped towards the door. 

"What the hell!?" Snarled Hugo. The Joker giggled maniacally and pocketed the weapon. 

"Oh stop whining. I did you a _favor_ doc_. _Don't blow it for yourself...you're smart, you'll figure out what to do," he said with a sharp chuckle before he slid out of the door. Hugo wailed with agony as he clutched his blown knee. He was left alone for the Bat to find. It didn't take a genius to figure just what the Joker had implied he do. Through his pain, agonizing pain, he came up with his own plan. 

Several agonizing minutes passed before the door burst open and the Bat himself breezed in. He saw Hugo on the ground and snarled. Hugo could barely contain his excitement as Batman hoisted him into the air. 

_**"Where is he!?" **_Demanded the Bat. Hugo broke out into a theatrical sob and shook his head. 

"I don't know! He shot me and dragged me in here. Then he just left!" He wailed. He grabbed Batman and stared into his eyes. So close to figuring out the Bat's secrets...

_**"A diversion," **_he replied curtly, before setting the doctor in the chair. _**"The ambulance is on its way, hang tight," **_Hugo grit his teeth as he watched the Batman leave. He had been so close...and then the Joker had shot him in the leg and left him immobile and in agonizing pain. _All part of the plan. _All good things came to those who wait. 

* * *

Harley trudged through the halls. She climbed back up into the vents when she found another bathroom. She had fallen the first time. She had laid there for awhile, her mind losing itself to the darkness of her exhaustion and the drug. 

However, she pushed through and stood back up. She stood up on a toilet, climbed into the stall door and unhinged the vent with her bloodied hammer. Thank God she had been a gymnast. She pulled herself up into the vents and crawled her way through them. 

Finally, she felt a breeze blowing and her excitement grew. She crawled in its direction, her eyes blurring and body growing sluggish with each movement. 

She came to a steep incline with the lights of Gotham twinkling just beyond. She gave a shout of joy and relief as she stood up. Her hands roved up as she tried to pull herself off the floor beneath her. She sighed and wiped her face of sweat. Her vision swayed and she held her head. She slapped herself a couple of times and groaned. 

"Come on Harley, you can do this, just...God it's ok, we've survived this night haven't we? Don't rot in a fucking vent. Just...pull yourself together!" She snarled before stepped back and observing. The walls were tight enough that she could chimney climb. 

With a sigh she pressed herself against the walls and inched herself up one foot and shimmy of her back at a time. Finally, after an exhausting few minutes, she clasped her hammer and swung it haphazardly at the grate. 

_ **BANG! CLANG! CRASH! ** _

The grate tumbled off and she smiled, sweat pouring down her face. She practically rolled out of the vent and onto the gravelly roof of Arkham Asylum. 

"FUCK!" she exclaimed as she stumbled to her feet. She jumped with newfound excitement. Now for the hard part...getting _down. _she she'd her coat and pulled her hair out of the terribly messy bun. 

She tied it back into a tight, high pony tail as she readied herself for the next move. She stumbled around the perimeter of the roof. She found several draining pipes, windows and ledges. There was a dumpster off on the left. It was open with several large trash bags waiting to cushion her as gross as it was. 

Escape however, was more important right now than her dignity, so she shoved her dispositions aside and began her climb. 

She swung her legs over the wall of the roof and lowered herself onto a ledge. She grabbed a drain pipe for balance and looked down. 

The ground swayed below her, but she shook her fear away. She seethed as she slowly climbed down the window and slowly turned around. Even now, she had impeccable balance. She scaled the drainage pipe until it started to creak under her weight. She snatched a window sill and pulled herself off. 

Her vision swayed and she felt her muscles start to give way to exhaustion. She was so tired. Harley's leg's flailed as she tried to find a foot hold. 

She caught a ledge and her heart steadied. She swallowed and slowly turned her head over her shoulder to look below her. Her fingers were screaming with pain. The dumpster loomed below her. If she jumped now, would she make it? 

Slowly, Harley turned her on her feet so she was facing outward and not hugging the wall. She looked down at the dumpster. Her breath hitched in her throat as she fought with her terror. A scream from inside the Asylum reminded her what was waiting inside, so she swallowed down her fear and took a leap of faith. 

Her body hit the garbage _hard. _Her nerves screamed with pain and the air was knocked out of her. She gasped for breath as she fought through the pain invading her. She let out a choked scream. Her eyes saw stars, blurry stars as reality seemed to warp before her. 

She groaned as she fought through her pain, exhaustion and disgust as she pulled herself up to climb out of the garbage. She heard the wail of sirens as cops began to pull into the asylum on the other end. _Go to them! They'll help!_

She looked down at herself and noted the fact she was covered in Betty's blood. She was promptly reminded of her confrontation with the Joker. Her lip trembled and she pulled her arms close to her. Her lip still stung and at the very thought of him, her heart began to race. He was like a black hole. There had been some part of her that was so intrigued by him, that wanted to know what he'd do next. 

She sighed as the police sirens drew her back from that void that threatened to suck her in. No. No, she couldn't go to them for help. She'd be seriously interrogated and...she didn't have the energy for that. She had to get out on her own. She limped along the edge of the fence until she saw a patch of fence that had been blown to bits, leading out into the open Narrows. 

Free. She was free. She kicked herself into a tired, clumsy run to escape the prison. 

It wasn't until just a few blocks down when Harley succumbed, finally, to her exhaustion and drugged state. She tumbled to the ground in an alleyway and passed out, unaware of the pensive, watchful eyes looking after her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long as the usual chapters, but I didn't want to drag it out so much! So we're left with some questions as many who deal with Joker usually are. 
> 
> Next up: Harley recovers from the fear toxin and comes to terms with Betty Hally's blood on her hands. Gordon puts his suspicions about a new mob boss on hold as he tries to find out about what happened at Arkham, and Bruce takes Richard into his care.


	7. Scandals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I did some reconstruction on earlier chapters to better fit the plot development/character development ideas I have for this story and where it will go. Thank you! 
> 
> Now back to the story: 
> 
> Last time: Harley escaped Arkham Asylum, but not without her losses. The Joker has been set loose and Batman and Dick Grayson had some bonding time! 
> 
> Now: Harley recovers from her heinous night and comes to terms with what she should do next. Gordon and Nygma try to piece together what happened, and some more Richard and Bruce.

"Fascinating..." Gordon stood in the flickering halls of Arkham Asylum. Exactly Fifteen nurses, orderlies and guards were dead, twenty seriously wounded. Edward stood near a blown hole in the Solitary confinement wing that lead into the sewers. Gordon turned to Edward and rose a brow. 

"You're supposed to be back at the station to perform the autopsies, what are you doing here?" He asked, pacing towards the scrawny detective. Edward smiled and stood up. 

"I saw an opportunity to conduct some research, the autopsies can come later. It's fascinating what happened here," explained detective Nygma. Gordon narrowed his eyes. 

"It is quite mind boggling, yes," he murmured. Edward grinned and turned back. 

"The elevator leading to the solitary confinement wing can only be unlocked via key, it's one of the only places in Arkham besides the office wing that hasn't been upgraded with new technology. To access it, you'd have to have a physical key. Do you know what that means?" He asked, looking down the hole. 

"That the Joker is too much of a mad genius to be kept in a place like Arkham? Yes. I should've had him taken to Black Gate. But who's to say he wouldn't have found a way to escape that too? This is a disaster!" Groaned Jim as he raked a hand through his hair. Edward frowned. 

"Incorrect. It means the Joker had inside help. A doctor possibly, or a security guard. Maybe both," said Edward as he practically jumped with excitement. Jim narrowed his eyes. 

"Sir, we questioned Doctor Hugo...he said he wanted to speak to you directly," said one of his officers. Gordon swallowed and glanced back at Edward. He waved as Jim sighed and followed behind his fellow policeman. 

They entered Hugo's office. His knee was bandaged up and he had a distant, frightened look on his face. 

"Ok Doctor Strange...what happened here?" Asked Gordon. Hugo looked at him and blinked. 

"I'll tell you what happened here. What happened was complete madness! It was like the Lord of the Flies. The Joker and...and Harleen Quinzel took me hostage before the Batman showed up," he said. Jim furrowed his brow. Dr. Quinzel? 

"What does Ms. Harleen have to do with this?" He asked. He didn't know the woman very well, but he couldn't see someone like her taking someone hostage. 

"She's been feeding him information and equipment for weeks," he said with a shrug. Jim narrowed his eyes. 

"And...is she here to give a witness report?" The doctor added. The answer was no, and Jim almost believed it. She had been his doctor for a good long while. He wouldn't put it past someone like the Joker to manipulate even the sanest of people to help him. Or to turn against their own principles...like Harvey. He didn't want to believe the Joker had succeeded at warping another mind, so he pushed it back. Better to treat it like a hostage situation. Or that she had escaped on her own. He shook it away. 

"Please...recount what happened last night," he said. As of now, Tony Zucco was locked up in the MCU but they hadn't had the chance to question him because of this disturbance. Jim was frighteningly aware of the new threats of an up and coming mob boss. Things were all happening at once. Everything was exploding in his face. What if everything that he and Batman had done together was destroyed? 

* * *

Edward had always been fascinated by riddles. 

_If you have one, you don't share it. If you share it, you don't have it. What is it? _

The Joker was a vastly intricate riddle. His motives, his ideology, his puzzles of morality. They were fascinating. Admirable. Something to learn from. Something to solve. 

_I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have a mouth, but water kills me. What am I?_

Another riddle that Edward was fascinated by was the man who fought the Joker. The Batman. A man who had gone into hiding that the police were trying to track down. A vigilante who's staple of justice was not killing his victims, but handing them conveniently over to the police. Up until then, vigilantism was wildly just as bad as the criminals they tried to stand up for. But the Batman never killed. And then, Batman murdered Harvey Dent. It just didn't make sense to Edward. What had really happened that night? He knew it was tied to the Joker. 

_My life can be measured in hours, I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. Wind is my foe. What am I?_

It was all just another puzzle piece in the Joker's grand scheme and Edward...he wanted so badly to put the pieces together. So, these days, he inserted himself into any investigation he could. He wanted desperately to get out of the lab and into the field. Criminals had always fascinated him. 

_I have no feet, no hands, no wings, but I climb to the sky. What am I?_

Take Ted Kaczynski for instance. There was a man who led a seventeen year manhunt. He was impossible to find, he knew every trick in the book, outsmarted even FBI operatives. The only reason he got caught was because he put out some puzzle pieces for the cops to put together. He wanted them to publish a manifesto. It was typed by type writer. They couldn't track via handwriting analysis. They had tried to back track and find what type writer he had bought and who he had bought it from, but it didn't work. 

Then they decided to break the rules and publish the manifesto despite the Nation's "no negotiating with terrorists" rule. It was then that his family called in and Ted was caught in the woods living like a neanderthal. 

_I can be cracked, I can be made. I can be told, I can be played. What am I?_

The Joker had his Unabomber moment when he had rigged the Ferries. Edward had rather liked analyzing that dilemma. Of course, what if the bombs had been rigged to blow their own boat up? That would've been a nasty trick, but very in line with the Joker. He had gotten caught because he too had gotten cocky. 

What was it with criminals and big displays of power? Getting the FBI to publish a manifesto...or rigging two ferries chock full of people with bombs and then having them go through a moral dilemma while the Batman was after you. The thrill of the chase. The thrill of letting the cops try to solve your riddle before the time ran out. How fascinating! 

_I'm as small as an ant, as big as a whale. I'll approach like a breeze, but can come like a gale. By some I get hit, but all have shown fear. I'll dance to the music, though I can't hear. Of names I have many, of names I have one. I'm as slow as a snail, but from me you can't run. What am I?_

Yes the Joker was incredibly smart. The Arkham take over had been executed in an extremely interesting way. 

Blowing up the security guards' offices, having all the cameras turned off. The escape tunnel being in the one place no one could reach unless they had the key. A key that could only be found in a security guard's office. Then having everyone try to find and fight to find the exit so they could leave? It was the perfect way to instill the chaos the Joker so hungered for. To strike fear into the hearts of Gotham.

_You use a knife to slice my head and weep beside me when I am dead. What am I?_

"Oh...this is interesting," murmured Edward as he studied one of the many bodies found dead at the Asylum. An old woman known as Betty Hally. Her face was smashed in so much, she was only recognizable by body. 

She was covered in nail marks, having been held down. The foreign DNA in those nail markings belonged to one Harleen Quinzel. A doctor murdering their own patient. Now _that_ was an interesting riddle. 

_What goes up when the rain comes down?_

* * *

Richard sat in the hospital with Gordon, who had taken time out of his busy schedule to accompany the young boy to the hospital during his father's surgery. 

"He's going to be ok, right?" Murmured Richard. Gordon glanced over at him. 

"He's being worked on by Gotham's finest surgeon. Thomas Elliot rarely suffers losses," he said. Richard shifted and looked at the door to the surgery room just before him. 

"I hope you're right...Gordon you don't...you don't actually believe Batman murdered those people do you?" He asked quietly as the time dragged on. Gordon glanced at him uneasily. 

"Well..."

"I heard the Joker escaped the Asylum... Batman's going to go after him. I know he will," he said with a firm nod. Gordon sighed and looked down. 

"The Joker destroyed Batman...turned him into a monster. Turned good men into monsters. That's what he does. Some part of me hopes that he brings the Joker to justice, but...if the Batman does come out of hiding, I'll be forced to detain him just like the other criminals in this city," he said. Richard stared at the ground. "I'd rather focus my efforts to enforce the Dent Act than deal with that mad dog," he sighed. Richard nodded before he glanced at Gordon. 

"Do you think the Joker could turn you into a monster?" He whispered. Gordon blinked. 

"I'd never give him the chance," he said firmly. Richard nodded with satisfaction. 

"Good. So have you got Zucco to talk?" He asked. Gordon shook his head. 

"Not only have I not had the time, thanks to this circus show, but that bastard is loyal to whoever the hell employed him. Won't crack at all. The only lead we have is this place called the Iceberg Lounge. We tried to find it, but apparently, it changes location every week. None of them use cellphones as far as I know. If they did, we'd be able to track them," he said. Richard's eyes widened. 

"Iceberg Lounge? I think I've been there, not for fun obviously, but I've seen it. I can take you to one of the locations, maybe it would give you a better chance? You and I both know that the mob needs to be torn down before anyone new can—" 

"Richard Grayson?" Richard and Gordon snapped to attention as a nurse came to them. 

"Your father...he didn't survive the surgery," said the nurse, with regret in his eyes. Richard froze, and that same heavy grief gripped his heart with an icy, iron grip. His heart fell to his stomach and his eyes spilled with newfound tears. 

What? His father...was dead...

"Um...Doctor Elliot has asked we keep this quiet for now, if you could both sign here please," the nurse said. Richard could only seem to watch from the outside in as he and Gordon signed the contract, too shocked to speak. 

"Much appreciated. A formal statement will be released about the cause of death...I'm very sorry Mr. Grayson." And with that, the nurse turned away. For the second time, Richard felt the rug pulled out from under his feet and he let out an agonized wail. Gordon pulled him into a fatherly hug and Richard was too shocked and too filled with consuming grief, he didn't fight it. Everything...was happening so fast. 

* * *

Harley snapped awake, gasping for air. Just above her was a black cat sitting on her chest, staring down at her with a curious glint in its eyes. 

She blinked and it blinked slowly back. Her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and her legs refused to move. In fact, her entire body felt like it was made of lead. 

Harley groaned and the cat hopped off of her. It meowed as if sounding an alarm that she was awake and Harley dragged her hand to her head to rub out the migraine settling in. She looked around, her vision blurry from her missing contacts. This was not her apartment. This place was dark, with soft lamps and smelled like cats. Rugs were draped was over the walls. She was pretty sure she saw the tail of an orange tabby disappear under a kitchen table. It was a small apartment as well. Rustic. 

"Look who's awake." Harley rolled her head to see where the voice had come from. Heels clicked on hard wood floors and a woman sat beside her. Long, dark, brunette hair, pouty, red lips and doe-like brown eyes...

"Selina?" She breathed. Selina smiled gently and much like a mother would, put her hand on Harley's forehead to check her temperature. 

"Your fever broke...you were out for two days," She said softly. Harley's eyes widened and she shot up. Selina pushed her back down and stood up. 

"Two days!?" she exclaimed, she shook her head and climbed off of the couch. Confusion struck her. What was she doing in Selina Kyle's apartment? They had only talked once. How had she even found her and...what the hell had happened that...

Her eyes widened when everything from that night flooded back to her. Hugo Strange, Scarecrow, _The Joker..._ Betty. 

"I found you in the Narrows. Face down in an alleyway, covered in blood...I knew I couldn't leave you there. So I brought you back here," Selina explained when she saw the multitude of question marks written all over Harley's face. 

"What have I missed?" She asked after a long pause. Selina rummaged through her desk and brought out a newspaper. She tossed it onto Harley's lap. 

"A lot...people are going insane. Everyone's _terrified_ the city will burn down. It's bad," she said, her silky voice almost putting Harley at ease as she debated whether or not to look at the Newspaper in the first place. Harley looked up at her an arched a brow. 

"Bad for who?" A small hint of selfishness leaking through. Selina smirked at her. 

"Definitely for you... I mean, technically for everyone. With Bobo the clown on the loose who knows what will happen. But...you're in a lot of hot water. That pig, Dr. Strange was it? Well he accused you of working with the Joker. Annnnd it doesn't help that they found your DNA on the dead body of Betty Hally. Now I'm not one to stick my nose where it doesn't belong but..." 

"I didn't help the Joker," Harley snapped as she forced herself to look at the paper. The headline itself was rather unbearable, the words were just clear enough that she could make them out. What she read was disgusting. She hated the media. 

> _ **Partners in Crime? ** _
> 
> _Dr. Quinzel has gone missing after the chaotic take over at Arkham Asylum. Her co-workers all agree that she had been conspiring with the Joker. What would make a successful young woman abandon everything to help such a monster?_
> 
> _Dr. Strange said that she had become obsessed with the Joker during their sessions and let him consume her life. The police investigation is ongoing. If Harleen is found she will be brought in for questioning. _
> 
> _ **"I do not believe Dr. Quinzel had anything to do with this, it is more likely she was taken hostage. The police are working tirelessly to track that monster down," ** _ _states Commissioner Gordon. _
> 
> _More on pg.5 _

"Commissioner Gordon...such a boy scout," said Selina as she sauntered into the kitchen. Her black cat trailed after her and meowed. She leaned down and crooned. Harley watched as she rubbed and scratched the cat's head before she stood back up and made coffee.

There was a long silence that settled before Selina came back with a granola bar and a cup for her. Harley ate and drank ravenously before finally she voiced the question that was nagging at the back of her mind. 

"What do I do..?" Murmured Harley hopelessly. According to all of Gotham, she was a criminal. There's no way she could go back to the asylum in good conscience. Not with Hugo there, or Betty dead. Even if she _did _somehow convince the police that Hugo Strange had been the one to help the Joker, she was still a murderer, under the influence or not. 

"Well from where I'm standing, you have two choices. Either you can try to save your reputation, which will be like trying to push a boulder up a mountain...or...you can lay low." 

"I can't go back to Arkham," she snapped. Selina smirked at her and slid back onto the couch. 

"No I'm afraid not...you murdered your own patient. I'm questioning if I should have even let you in my house," she said slyly. Harley frowned at her. 

"That wasn't my fault. I was attacked by Scarecrow. I was hallucinating, I thought...I thought I was being assaulted. His fear toxin," she explained. Selina eyed her. 

"That would explain a lot," she mused. Harley stood up and glanced around. She was wearing a nightgown. She found her clothes folded neatly below the coffee table and grabbed them. Selina let her change in the bathroom. 

"I need to go. I'll go to Gordon and see if I can explain," she said breathlessly. Gordon...he would understand. He had to. Selina sighed. 

"Well...if it backfires... page me. Cell phones are dangerous nowadays for criminals like me...and you," she purred as Harley approached her front door. 

"Hm, thanks, but—" 

"Just take it sweetie," she said as she handed a pager to her. Harley looked down at it. With a resolved sigh, she pocketed it and nodded. 

"Yeah...ok...Ok." She turned towards the door and opened it. "Ok," she murmured again as she fought to understand her new predicament. She lingered on the landing of the apartment and looked back at Selina, her eyes wide with new fear. 

"...Thank you," she whispered. Selina nodded to her.

"Us ladies have to stick together in times like these," she said, before she closed the door. Harley stood on the landing, frozen in spot. She blinked and rubbed her eyes as if that would help her see clearly. With a resolved sigh, she decided she'd go back to her apartment. She'd get some money, new contacts and then go get food. Maybe after she'd eaten she could figure out what to do. She had always been able to figure stuff out.

It was late afternoon by the time Harley made it to her apartment. She meandered into the bathroom, still consumed by thoughts of what she would possibly do. Out of contacts. She rummaged for her glasses and slid them on. Time to get to business then. 

She stared at the mess she had made and nodded slowly. Might as well clean it up. It might help her collect her thoughts. She started with the glass. The cuts on her hands had healed up, but seeing the mess made her remember the injuries in an uncomfortable way. 

She threw away the broken glass. Swept up any shards that were left and then turned to the living room. She fixed her couch, and the curtains she had torn down. Cleaning certainly got her mind off of Betty, and her new criminal status. Even if it was complete bullshit. Or at least _half _bullshit. 

As soon as the apartment was fixed if not empty of dishes, she sat on her couch and turned the TV on. She specifically avoided the news. She didn't know if she'd be able to handle watching GCN. Instead, she found a romantic comedy and turned it on. 

It would've been nice to have someone to support her. Make her feel like she wasn't going insane. That her life wasn't falling apart. She could've had that, with Cash...but he had been too close to work. Literally. 

As she watched Maid in Manhattan, her thoughts once again fell to what she would do. How was she going to come back from murdering Betty? Would Margaret sue her? Could she fake her own death? Was the only reason she was so worried about Betty because of the consequences that came with her murder? Did it feel good? She didn't know. She hoped not. No. Yes. And...In the moment...it had felt amazing. Just like when she had destroyed her apartment, she had felt a sense of freedom. An exhilarating, dangerous freedom that threatened to consume her. The fear toxin hadn't been the thing to make her feel such a high. That had been all her. It had been the same reckless abandon she had felt all those years ago. 

With the weight of that realization, she knew she couldn't go directly to Gordon. At least not physically. She could damn well leave a message though. _Cell phones are dangerous nowadays for criminal like me...and you. _She had never had to think about the ramifications of the Dent Act and how they would effect her life. As an upstanding citizen, it never really bothered her to know that her phone was tracked at all times. What had she to hide? She wasn't in the mob, she had never broken a law _recently_. Now that she was faced with this new predicament, the twisted side effects of justice and order started to really rub her the wrong way. Suddenly being tracked wasn't something she could just shrug off. Really...the more she thought about it, the more twisted it became. There was really something sick about such an abuse of power. 

A payphone. She could get to a payphone, then leave a message. That would give her an incentive to get something to eat too. Oh good. She glanced back at her pocket.

The pager. Selina Kyle had been so helpful...and she drew Harley in. Unlike the Joker who was a black hole, Selina was like a sun. A sun who's gravitational pull made you want to revolve around her. Harley smiled. She had taken care of her for two days. There was a good woman. Harley couldn't say the same thing about herself. 

She began the trek to a gas station. She'd get money from an atm, food and a payphone to call in the MCU. 

Only a few months ago, if you had asked Harley if she thought she was a good person, she would've said yes. Of course. But now...now she wasn't so sure. Not that anyone else had to know that. 

She found a Bodega with both an ATM and a payphone and so she slid inside. She pulled out a hundred dollars before making her way around the store and grabbing a bag of chips, some Gatorade and a shitty burrito before going to the cash register. He rang her up and she paid. With the change she went to the payphone and dialed for the MCU. 

"Yes...can I please speak with commissioner Gordon?... This is um...it's an anonymous tip, I want to speak to him directly. Please...Oh he's not in? Where is he?...No I understand. It's fine. Um, actually, I'll cut to the chase, this is Harleen Quinzel. I was out for two days with an extreme fever due to being attacked with Crane's fear toxin. I escaped Arkham Asylum through the vent system. I did not help the Joker. I know who did though...I want to speak with Gordon directly. As soon as he's able to, I want him to come to Vivel's Cafe. I'll tell him everything I know," she said. The lady on the line had practically screamed when Harley revealed her identity over the phone. There was frantic agreements before the both of them hung up and Harley was left with her thoughts. What if he arrested her?

"Doctor Quinzel...I want to have a little chat." Harley whirled around and gave a small shout as she came face to face with Dorothy. 

"Oh my God! How the hell...how did you find me?" She whimpered as Dorothy beckoned her out of the glass box. Harley noted the body guard beside her and she gulped. Was this how she would die? 

"I've been watching your apartment," she said simply, before gesturing to her car. Harley stayed planted on the side walk. Dorothy stared icily at her. 

"Get in. I want to go on a little drive," she crooned before opening the door for Harley. The body guard practically shoved her and Harley hopped into the car, her heart thundering in her chest. She found it quite laughable that she got scared of someone like Dorothy, but for some reason not so much the Joker. Probably because the Joker had been charming and friendly to her, and Dorothy was just stone cold and openly threatening? Possibly. 

"Let's get something straight Harleen. I like you, you're a pretty face, with a smart brain. You know when to shut up, you know when to keep your head down. I believed I could trust you. Now I understand, my dear boss overstepped by accusing you of working with the Joker. So I'm going to help both of us by fixing some of Hugo's spilt milk," said Dorothy as they began to drive. Harley swallowed and trained her eyes forward. Where was this going? 

"Just...tell me what you want," she whispered. Dorothy nodded. 

"Good, I'm glad we can just..._cut to the chase_. See, my boss - a brilliant man - has a vision for Arkham Asylum and the patients there. And for Gotham. Unfortunately he let his personal bias against you speak out of turn. While the media just loves a good scandal with a woman like you, I think you and I can cook up a better lie that will clear your name and keep Hugo off of the police's radar." Harley blinked, her mind swelling with anger. Why on Earth would she want to help Hugo Strange? That man had ultimately screwed her over!

"What do you want me to say?" She asked despite her inner protests. Dorothy gave her a thin-lipped smirk. 

"Well honey, I want you to tell them that Mr. Arkham was the one to help the Joker. He is after all, the one that got him transferred from Black Gate to the Asylum, the one that let him be treated despite the arrangements that were made, the one with the keys to Solitary confinement, and the one who wasn't in the Asylum the night of the attack. Everything adds up, doesn't it? It makes a lot more sense than poor little Harley Quinn becoming the Joker's little puppet doll, doesn't it?" She suggested. Harley darted a look at her, her eyes wide. Dorothy stared at her with a cool and collected look. 

"And if I don't?" She asked. Dorothy smiled coyly and pulled out a syringe. She pricked the tip of her finger before flicking away the sting of pain. Harley's eyes widened. 

"Oh honey, you don't wanna know. You don't wanna know...now...do we have an understanding?" She asked. Harley's lip trembled, but she swallowed down her contempt and she held out her hand. Dorothy grinned and shook it, before gesturing for her driver to pull over. 

Harley hesitantly stepped out, noticing they were at her apartment. She watched as the car pulled away. Harley Quinn...the Harlequin. A servant. What an awful thing to be called. Her fists clenched. _Was this the kind of excitement you wanted? _She didn't know anymore. Everything was happening so fast. She wished she had stayed asleep. Or that the Joker had killed her. How much nicer that would be than whatever the hell was happening now. 

* * *

Richard sat fully clothed in the motel shower. It felt like the only real place to hide. The water rained over him, hiding the tears streaming down his face. Memories that had once been sweet were now sour. 

_"If you do it like that, you'll throw out your back." Richard unstrung himself from the high beam._

_"I don't want to do gymnastics," he grumbled as he dropped onto the mat. His father frowned. _

_"Too cool for gymnastics!?" He exclaimed with a playful grin. Richard squealed as his father wrestled him to the floor. The both of them broke out laughing. _

_"That's exactly it," huffed Richard as he rolled away from his father. _

_"Well...what do you want to do, Dick?" He asked. Richard glanced behind the doors, watching a man pummel a punching bag. _

_"I...want to learn how to fight," he admitted. John's eyes widened. _

_"Fight?" He asked with a low whistle. "Aren't you a little scrawny for that? What if you get hurt?" Richard rolled his eyes. _

_"What if I get hurt from doing trapeze in a circus? I'm just trading out one danger for another," he explained. John smiled thoughtfully at him. _

_"You really are your own little person aren't you Dick? Fine. I'll sign you up for kick boxing this weekend, how-z-about that?" He asked. Richard grinned triumphantly and practically jumped with joy. _

_"Yes! I mean...cool, cool, thanks pops," he quickly put on a chill demeanor and clicked his tongue. John laughed and shook his head. _

Richard's lip trembled as he choked back another sob. What was he going to do? How was he going to live? Why had the world been so cruel to him? He couldn't answer any of these questions. What was worse, was the fact his father had been in a coma for so long that Richard had already started cutting attachments much earlier. So now he was filled with both soul crushing guilt and grief. 

There was a knock at his door and he froze. Was this social services? Had they come to cart him away without remorse and send him to live with some foster family? 

His jaw clenched as the knock repeated itself, only louder. 

"Richard? Are you in there? This is Bruce...uh, Bruce Wayne." He had _not _expected that. Richard felt his body rise despite himself and he turned off the water. Soaking wet, the boy trudged through his motel room, dripping water all over the carpet. He opened the door slowly and looked up at none other than Bruce Wayne himself. He didn't know what to think, so he stepped away sat down. 

Bruce took it as a granted entrance and slid into the room. He closed the door behind him and let out a long sigh. 

"I was informed by Gordon...Richard I am so sorry," he murmured. Richard stared up at the ceiling and wiped his eyes roughly. 

"It's not like it was your fault...how did you know where to find me anyway?" He asked, eyeing Bruce suspiciously. He hadn't told Gordon, or any of his parents' colleagues. He had taken the rest of his dad's on-hand cash. It hit him that tonight would be the last night he could stay here before they kicked him out and turned him over to the CPS. He glanced back up at Bruce, who was looking away from him. 

"Social Services will be after you soon," he said. Avoiding the question. That seemed to be a recurring theme Richard had started to notice between both Mr. Wayne and Batman. He sighed, knowing he wouldn't be getting answers and only nodded miserably. 

"That does appear to be my future," he grunted. Bruce frowned and took a seat on the bed. 

"Why didn't social services take you? 'Cause you were rich?" He asked. Bruce smiled wryly and shook his head. 

"That might have had something to do with it, but really it was because Alfred became my legal guardian," he admitted. Richard smiled softly despite the darkness crushing his soul and looked away. 

"So what are you doing here?" He asked finally. Bruce nodded and let out a sigh. 

"I'm not going to let you get thrown into a foster home. Of course it's your choice, but, I can't just watch you...get lost in the system. So, I guess I'm offering you come live with me at Wayne Manor for the time being. I can help you through your grief, and mourn with you," he offered. Richard felt a lump grow in his throat. Part of him wanted to scream in Bruce's face to go fuck himself. It was so soon to already be carted off to another place, but...there was a part of Bruce he was drawn to. Probably the fact he truly understood him. Besides... _Do you really think you have a better choice? _No, he didn't. He glanced up at Bruce and smiled weakly. He roughly wiped the tears away and swallowed down his pride. 

"You know what? Fine. Yeah, I'm not stupid, God knows I ain't going into foster care. Don't try to act like my dad though. We'll be...like room mates or something," he said. Bruce chuckled. 

"What, are you gonna pay rent?" He teased as Richard went to gather his things. 

"Oh fuck off," grumbled Richard. Bruce laughed quietly and sat in wait. Richard came back with a duffle bag in his hands and new dry clothes on. He slowly smiled. 

"Hey...you know, fuck the people who say you're a disgrace to the Wayne's...none of them would've done what you've been doing," he said with a knowing smile as he began to put the pieces together. Bruce tilted his head. 

"Been doing?" He asked. Richard nodded as the two left the motel room. 

"Yeah..." He murmured as they returned the keys to the clerk and entered Bruce's sports car. When they were alone Richard smirked. 

"You're so obvious, Bruce. If you were going to try and help me, pick an identity and stick with it. Also, you have a horrible habit of dodging questions...doesn't take a genius to figure out just who you are," he said. He had suspicions, but Bruce showing up to his motel room when only Batman had been the one to see it was glaringly obvious. 

Bruce stared at him hard before a smile cracked his lips. 

"Then I suppose everyone in Gotham city is a fool," he said as he started the car. Richard chuckled. 

"Thanks...for everything you've done. But don't call me Dick," he said. Bruce glanced at him, the question in his eyes. 

"That's what my dad called me...it's special. I'm sure you can understand," he said. Bruce smiled sadly and nodded. 

"Yes...I do." 

"So...I guess this makes us confidantes?" 

"...I suppose it does." 

"Cool. Your secret's safe with me, scout's honor," 

"I would hope so," 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yay! Selina Kyle has entered the chat!
> 
> Next time: A day in the life of Edward Nygma, Harley speaks with Gordon, and we finally see a little bit of Penguin.


	8. Black Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time: Harley found herself in Selina's care and had a run in with Dorothy, and Richard and Bruce finally came together. 
> 
> This time: A small sliver of Edward's life, Harley and Jim Gordon meet, and we finally see a little bit of Penguin.

_They follow and lead, but only as you pass. Dress__ yourself in darkest black, and__ they are darker still. Always__ they flee the light,__ though without the sun there would be none_.

Batman had been at Arkham Asylum. Batman had also turned Tony Zucco in. Most of the cops buzzed with excitement and also disdain. Batman was a murderer, no better than any other common criminal on the street. Only he wore a wacky suit. Edward however, only saw it as an opportunity. An opportunity to learn something. 

Edward brushed his meticulously brushed his teeth for two minutes as he got ready in the morning. He made himself a small breakfast of cereal and milk, before he touched his door knob twice for good luck on his way out to go to work. 

He had found a lead for one of the Iceberg Lounges. He really appreciated the time and effort put in to make the locations a puzzle. But every puzzle was solvable. Edward had been doing some research down in the Theatre District and he had figured out a pattern by interviewing some of the locals. Of course, most of them were just so rude and seemed very uncomfortable, which Edward didn't really understand. 

If there was one riddle he'd never been able to solve...it was people. It made him a little infuriated, but he couldn't help it. So he stuck with his work. Kept his nose trained to the ground. Mumbled apologies as he bumped into anyone. 

When he got to the station, he went to tell the captain about what he had found, but was shrugged off and dismissed.

"Not right now, Nygma, I don't have time." Well then he'd come back later. It didn't bother him...that much. He went to his lab and began to type up a report on the evidence found in the truck. The gun had been bought from McNally's Arms and Ammo, and the drugs had residue of several different people. People they could track down and bring in for questioning. What was really boggling his mind was the fact that most of the city's notorious mob bosses had gone missing. Maroni was nowhere to be found, which were the whisperings around the police force. Edward found it fascinating. He printed out his report and made his way to file it for the detectives.

"Hey, hey Nygma, get your ass ova' here," called a cop by the name of Gary. Edward froze. He didn't like Gary all too much. He sighed and turned around. 

"Yes sir?" He asked. Gary chortled and looked at his friends. 

"Didja here that? He called me sir. Eddy, do you think you're smart?" He asked. Edward glanced around. What was this about? He shook his head. It was obviously a loaded question. 

"I don't think I'm allowed to answer this question truthfully. What is it that I have done that's offended you?" He asked, tilting his head with skeptical curiosity. 

"Yeah, he does. Tell me a riddle Ed," he demanded. Edward narrowed his eyes. 

"Ok...thirty white horses upon a red hill. First they tromp, then they stomp, then they hold still, what are they?" He asked quietly. The policeman shrugged, a smirk on his face. 

"I don't know, what is it?" He asked. Edward glanced around. What was going on? Why was he doing this? 

"Teeth and gums," he replied shortly, his brows furrowed as he tried to sense to the ill intent. 

"Very good...now I have a riddle for you...why are you always trynna cozy up to the commissioner?" He asked. Edward frowned and glanced behind him as his friends glared over at him. What had he done wrong exactly? Jim Gordon was probably the only person who was decent to him and didn't treat him like a weirdo. 

"That...wasn't a riddle. That was just a question," he grunted as he turned away. Gary laughed. 

"So answer it, Nygma," he barked. Edward glanced back and shrugged. 

"He's my friend," he said. Gary exploded with laughter. Edward pursed his lips and he jogged away from the bully. He knew a lot of bullies. A lot of people who didn't like his riddles, or his presence in general. Saw him as weaker. Edward tried not to think about it. Just water off the back after all. 

He filed his papers and slunk back to his office. 

When his shift ended, he clocked out and made his way home. It was getting dark out and he found himself thinking about Batman. There was a reason he had come out of hiding. Edward knew that for certain. Perhaps if he drew out Batman and found some way to arrest him people would respect him more...People would finally appreciate him and not just write him off as the weird Forensics detective. He could do it...if anyone could, he could. 

* * *

Harley couldn't sleep. The consequences of murdering Betty Hally were seeping into her mind. Would they arrest her? She was well off, could she get a lawyer? Margaret most likely knew by now, and there was no way she'd just let her walk out free. Harley would probably have to plead guilty. She didn't belong in prison...or maybe she did, but Harley found she didn't want to be in prison. She didn't want to go through the strenuous court trials and possibly get her medical license revoked. Especially after she had worked so hard to get it. 

Harley found the more she faced this dilemma, the more she just wanted to run away. She was so tired of playing by the rules. So tired of being forced to do things she didn't want to do. Her thoughts strayed to Dr. Strange. A dark voice in her screamed to get back at him. Hurt him. 

Then...as they so often did, she thought about the Joker. He was out there...waiting. What was he planning? He had kept the city in hushed suspense. The only sane thing to do seemed to be to just keep working. The world doesn't stop spinning just because a mad man is on the loose. 

Now Harley's world seemed to revolve around this man. Her thoughts were plagued by him. She recalled the feel off his touch. How he purred into her ear. How exciting it had all been. He had really been the only one to understand her...truly. His scar story proved that. It's like he was omnipotent. 

"No, no, that's... impossible," she curtly reminded herself as she stared up at her ceiling. He was really the only one that seemed to understand her though. The only person who indulged in her beliefs. The only person who she really felt comfortable being herself around but at the same time terrified her to the core. She both longed for that touch, for his company and ideals, and also never wanted to see him again. The very thought of him sent both chills down her spine and excited her. It scared her just how much of a black hole he was.

She needed to stop thinking. She needed to sleep. She needed rest, she needed to be alert for her meeting with Gordon. With that in mind, she shoved away the frustrating confusion that plagued her and drifted to a fitful sleep. 

The next morning she seemed to wander through her apartment. It didn't feel like it belonged to her. It felt all wrong. The walls radiated with anger and a feeling that she wasn't welcome anymore. The stuff grey walls seemed to close in on her. She wore as she turned the corner she saw Betty disappear into the closet. Her heart stilled and she grabbed her purse. 

She needed to get out. She never wanted to return to this stuffy grey apartment ever again. She raced down the stairs to avoid anyone who would've used the elevator. Once she had escaped the apartment complex, she found the breath returning to her lungs much more easily. She was losing it. Her grip on reality was fading away after what had happened at Arkham. All the chaos, Betty's murder, and the way it had made her felt. **_"Tell me darlin', did it feel good?" _**

_Don't think about it. _As she passed a costume shop, she stopped and looked up. Staring back at her was a Harlequin's costume, it's red and black triangular patterns glaring across the window. She was reminded of Dorothy...and by extension Hugo Strange. Her lip curled. She wanted to make that pig pay for the bullshit he put her through. She wanted to expose him, destroy him. Hurt him. 

_Do you hear yourself? _Harley blinked and she stepped away from the window. Away from the Harlequin suit and turned on her heel to continue. She shook away the dark thoughts plaguing her. She needed to clear her mind. 

What would Gordon do? Would he arrest her? She glanced down at her purse. Selena's pager sat, almost burning a hole in the bag. Just waiting to be used. She entered Vivel's Cafe and made her way to the counter to order a latte. 

Then...she sat in wait. When her coffee came out she took slow sips as she waited. And waited. She began to wonder if Gordon was going to show. Did that woman ever pass her message? She had finished her coffee and was beginning to feel a little foolish. 

She grew more frustrated and made a move to leave before Commissioner Gordon walked in. Harley froze as they locked eyes. He immediately made his way to her and Harley sat down. 

"Ms. Quinzel, I got your message," he murmured. Harley nodded slowly and wrung a napkin in her fingers. 

"...You're not going to arrest me are you?" She asked. He eyed her warily. 

"Well it depends on if you give me a reason to or not. You've been missing for two days. How about you explain that first," he said. She let out a shaking breath and eyed her purse. If anything happened...She forced herself to look back at the commissioner and smiled. 

"I was attacked by Johnathan Crane in my office during the takeover. I managed to escape through the vents. I didn't run into the Joker, and I had no hand in his escape," she explained. Gordon nodded slowly as he absorbed her information. 

"If not you, then who did it? We know he had inside help," he grunted. Harley nodded slowly in agreement. 

"He did..." Harley looked around. She was terrified of Dorothy, even now she felt her eyes on her. She wasn't here, but Harley couldn't bring herself to tell the truth. She could feel eyes on her. 

"Jeremiah Arkham. He's been in line with that madman for months. I watched him one night, he was delivering fertilizer to the Joker. For obvious reasons. I can only guess that Hugo Strange accused me of working with the Joker is because I was taken hostage by him at one point, while under influence of the fear toxin. He had bias against me, and he must've seen me with him and jumped to conclusions. In reality...it was an awful night," she explained. All lies. Or at least half lies. Harley's skin crawled. She wanted to tell the truth. Expose Hugo. But she was scared. To think just months ago she was so bored and was practically begging for some excitement. She couldn't even imagine that this is what would happen. 

"The security cameras were all shut down..." He murmured. Harley jumped on it. 

"An even more telling sign that it was Arkham. Do you really think I have that much power?" She asked. He shook his head glumly. The two sat together in silence before he sighed. 

"You still killed Betty Hally. For that, I have to bring you in. I do believe you though," he said regretfully. Harley's eyes flew open, wide as golf balls and she jerked back. 

"Wait!" She whispered harshly. Gordon narrowed his eyes. 

"What?" He asked. Harley leaned in and glanced around warily. 

"I was the Joker's therapist for months. I know him...I...I can help you find him if you let me go," she said with a nod. _'Why did you do that?' _She was desperate and a little part of her was hungry for him. Wanted to see him again, _needed _to talk to him. If only to spit in his face. Besides, she did know him the best, or at least knew him as much as he allowed her too.

Jim's eyes twinkled and he leaned forward. He glared across at her before giving a curt nod. 

"Ok...ok," he mumbled. Harley nodded slowly and sat back. She was satisfied with this understanding. 

"It's good to know we're on the same team," she said, holding her hand out to him for him to shake. Gordon glanced down at her hand before he resolved himself and grabbedt it. They gave a firm handshake before Gordon glanced around. 

"Wait ten minutes before I leave, then you can leave...just in case," he said. She smiled and nodded. 

"Just in case." Her heart was thudding rapidly. How was she even going to begin trying to find the Joker? If Gordon found out this was just an empty promise, she'd definitely get thrown in Blackgate for sure! She waited impatiently in her seat. _Calm down Harley...you know him the best, you really do. You're a psychologist for crying out loud...if anyone can think like a madman, it's you. _Harley smiled slightly. This might just be the excitement she had needed. 

She glanced up. Ten minutes. Slowly, she stood up and strolled out from the coffee shop. She bumped past a woman and glanced back to say sorry. Betty Hally disappeared into the crowd. She gasped and stumbled away. Some people shot her confused and dirty looks as she sprinted away from the coffee shop. What was going on with her!? 

* * *

Selena Kyle had received an invitation. A black and white card with a bowtie stamped on it. Inside was a handwritten letter in pretty, sharp, cursive writing. In the letter it explained there was a celebration being held in the Diamon District in a penthouse of an old hotel. One of the many new Iceberg Lounge locations. It detailed a spectacle to reward loyalty, and that she would receive VIP treatment because there was a job waiting for her if she wished to accept. 

On the bottom is said in gold lettering; _"Out with the old, in with the new." _Selena didn't exactly care what that meant. She was just a thief, not a mobster. But...a particular mobster had just reached out to her. A man who only legends spoke of, a man that had been absent from Gotham for a long while. 

When Selena had received that invitation, her breath caught in her throat. She was excited, curious and scared. Of course she'd attend. 

Her first order of business was getting appropriate clothing for the occasion. After feeding her cats Eartha and Gizmo, she rode the train to the Diamond district. There was a small fear nagging at the back of her head now that the Joker was loose, but she tried to not let it bother her. He hadn't made a move yet, and it was unlikely he'd immediately start with where she was going. 

Dressed in a slim black sweater dress and a white, faux fur coat she had lifted from a night club, a floppy, white hat and a large purse taken from an opera goer, Selina looked the part. Now she just had to play. 

She waited until a group of ladies were entering a high end boutique before she joined the gaggle and departed before one of the store clerk's could see and greet her. She slipped up the stairs and began to weave through the racks of dresses. She set her eyes upon a tight, slim fit, black gown that she just knew would hug her curves.

She smiled and pulled a few other dresses just to not raise suspicion. Selena into the dressing room to begin her work. She set the dresses down and sat at the small bench. Out from her purse she pulled two forks and slid them between the security tag. She pried the tag apart and hummed with content. She folded the dress and slid it into her purse after snipping away the other tags. She hung the other dresses up and plucked out a few of the more flattering ones before taking them downstairs with her. Prize safely concealed and her decoys at the ready, she approached the counter. 

"Hello there ma'am, I think I'm ready to check out," she said sweetly. The woman at the register smiled at her and took the dresses. 

"Was everything alright for you?" She asked. Selena smiled and nodded. 

"Yes, now let me just get my wallet," she murmured as she rummaged about in her purse. She frowned and feigned innocent frustration as the woman rang up the decoys. 

"Is there something wrong?" She asked. Selena sighed in distraught. 

"This is so embarrassing. I totally left my wallet at home! Ugh! I'm so sorry for wasting your time," she said as she brushed hair out of her face. The woman frowned sympathetically to her. 

"Oh, it happens to the best of us. Would you like us to hold these for you?" She asked. Selena sighed with pouty distress. 

"No, no, that won't be necessary. If anything, the universe just saved me from blowing my check on a bit of impulse shopping, you know what I mean?" She purred. The lady chuckled and nodded. 

"I understand. Well, have a good day, and I'm sorry about that; better luck next time I suppose," she called as Selena waved and headed for the exit.

"Have a good rest of your day, sweetie!" She called back before sauntering out of the boutique. When she was clear of the shop, a smirk cracked at her lips and she gave a short laugh of triumph. It always felt good to win. 

As she passed through a crowd of business men, she left her heel catch on the ankle of one and squeaked with a flair of drama, making sure to keep her purse close to her. The man rushed to her side. 

"My God, are you ok?" He asked. Selena panted and offered him a grateful smile. She planted her free hand on his waist in an attempt to "balance herself." 

"I'm so sorry sir, it was totally my fault," she said as she fluttered her lashes. The man seemed to be overcome with attraction and giddiness and he smiled at her. 

"No, no, I'm just a big clumsy ass," he said. Selena let herself giggle, her fingers slipping quickly into his pocket and stealing away his wallet as she stared into his eyes. 

"Thank you for helping me up, best be on our ways now," she said, acting as if she wanted to bask in his attention just a bit more. He smiled sadly at her and waved her off, watching as she sauntered away. Another smirk struck her lips. 

As she turned down another block, she stopped at a bistro and ordered brunch. Now that she had some time to herself, her thoughts wandered. What was that little blonde therapist up to? Had she gone to Gordon like Selena had advised her not to do? She glanced at her purse where she kept her pager. It hadn't gone off yet, so Selena tried to not fret over it. She didn't have time to think about Harleen Quinzel. Even if she did pity her and want to see her make it out of the clown induced funk she was in. There was something about her that just wasn't right though. Maybe it was the knowledge she had murdered her own patient and the first thing she had thought to ask was, _"What does that mean for me?" _Selena couldn't deny the fact she found that small little trait a tad enduring. There was some spunk in the girl yet, and something told Selena that Harleen may turn sour if pushed to far. Just like the rest of the loonies in the city of Gotham. 

Food came. A petite plate of roasted quail and salad. Selena ate small bites as she thought about what she would do tonight. What did someone like Oswald Cobblepot need her for? Yes, she was a good thief, but she was rarely up for contract. Despite this, Selena wasn't above a good opportunity. She'd at least see what the mobster wanted. 

Evening came and Selena found herself in the lobby of a grand hotel. She paid for a room using the man's money and made her way upstairs to her room. When the door closed behind her, she sighed and stripped away her clothes. She readied a bath for herself and went to soak. A relaxed sigh escaped her lips. 

She washed and scrubbed before she let the water drain; then climbed out and went to prepare herself. She dried her hair and painted her face with makeup she had stolen a week ago. Selena went to put on her new gown and sighed admiringly at herself in the mirror. 

"Perfect," she purred to herself before she slipped into her heels and fur coat. She looked out the window and tried to imagine what she would do. She tried to imagine running the rooftops to escape a phantom menace or some cops. She tried to envision what someone like Harleen was doing in that moment, or Batman, or the Joker. What were they all doing? What was being planned? What was the holdup? 

No matter. Selena had an important event. She would not be late. Quietly, she slipped out of her room and trailed down the stairs to venture to the Iceberg Lounge. 

The Iceberg Lounge was a den of classy gentlemen and ladies. Each club looked different depending on the location. The Penthouse was very modern, very chic. Black and White with an ice block statue of a Penguin. A jazz band was playing on the stage and guests mingled with each other. It was a very small party, actually, now that Selena had taken the time to observe all of her potential targets. God knew they all deserved it. All the guests were some of the notorious gangsters of Gotham that hadn't been rounded up by Gordon and his team of boy scouts. Selena smiled at the thought of Gordon. He was a good man. It was too bad that the city of Gotham ate up goodness and spit it out. 

A hush stole the crowd as the lights dimmed. She arched a brow and glanced around with a growing excitement for what was to come.

She watched as a man about in his young thirties walked on stage. He had a shaky stature, and carried a cane with him at all times. She noted that he could be quite attractive if only it wasn't for that pesky beak of a nose. She watched as the famed Oswald Cobblepot, a man who had murdered someone with his own umbrella, held up a glass of champagne. Selena found her breath taken as his shaking, Cockney accent highlighted every word worth listening to. Selena leaned in expectantly and the two shared a small smile. 

"Greetings..._friends. _I'm so glad all of you could come, I wanted to make a toast! A toast to...the future." Selina crossed her legs as she eyed the man on stage. A gentleman with a long hooked beak of a nose, but a warm smile. She glanced around at the mobsters surrounding her. She didn't like this crowd...if you could even call it that anymore thanks to Gordon.

Despite her feelings towards the mob or what was left of it, as of now she was in need of work. She heard that this man paid a lot of money. The other mobsters cheered and held up their glasses of champagne. Mr. Cobblepot grinned. 

"Do forgive me for bringing up the past, but I've lived in Gotham all my life and...I started from nothing. I was a mere...busboy for Falcone's daughter. I played a few good cards and became a trusted advisor of both Maroni and Falcone. I've seen many things in this city, knew many secrets. I left Gotham for a time to...find myself as one might say. Went to England for a bit. And I came back...last year...to complete chaos! The Joker...yes...let that name sink in. Awe and whisper your fear and terror...yes. He's back in business isn't he...yes..._The Joker." _he crooned. The mobsters and their girlfriends and wives all shifted uncomfortably and murmured. Mr. Cobblepot grinned at the rise. 

"Yes. He's back. But he's the least of my worries. In fact, the only reason I bring that clown up, is because he was _right. _He was right about this...God forsaken business we've found ourselves in. It is shambles. It is very problematic. We haven't changed with the times. We haven't been able to keep up with people like Batman...or Gordon. You know who's holding us behind? Would you all like to meet the people responsible for keeping us in the past?" He asked, his monocle glinting in the dim chandelier lights of his club. Several murmurs of newfound excitement and scared curiosity rippled through the small gathering. Oswald rose his hands. 

"Alright. Very good then. Bring them out!" He demanded. A hush stole the crowd as several thugs dragged out three people. A woman...a man...and another man. Bags were covering their faces as they struggled against their captors. Selena leaned forward, biting her lip as she watched with sparked interest. What was he about to do? 

"Sofia...Falcone! The last of the Falcone heirs..." He said as if addressing his mother. Selena's eyes widened. Sofia was in Europe last year...she must've been dragged out like a rat. The silk black bag was ripped off of the woman's head and she gasped. 

"Mickey Sullivan, the third wheel of power...luck of the Irish, aye?" A nervous laughter rippled through the cluster of now uneasy mobsters. Selena glanced around and caught a pearl necklace. She leaned towards the woman and shot her a confused look that feigned terror. A mirror to the woman's own. She leaned in farther to whisper into her ear. 

"Do you know what's going on?" She asked innocently as she weaved her fingers expertly to snag the jewelry. The woman frowned and shrugged hopelessly. 

"I've only heard stories about this man..." She said, completely unaware of her necklace being slipped from her bossam. Selina hummed thoughtfully as she sat back and pocketed the pearls in an inner pocket of her jacket. She watched as the next black silk was pulled from the last man's head. Maroni. 

"And...last but definitely not least...Salvatore Maroni. Head of the crime syndicate of Gotham and the Maroni family...now do you want to know why they're here with us tonight?" When he received no answers, he continued, "They could not get with the times. They could not handle people like Batman and the Joker. They let their traditions, they let the old ways influence how they did business...and they failed, so...I'm here to take...a page from the Joker's playbook. Because with madmen running around this city dressing up as clowns...and bats...one can't afford to dress in stuffy little suits and play the rules. Say goodbye to the past. A toast...to the future." Three guns were pulled and before anyone could make a move, before any last words could be uttered, three bullets were put into the heads of the mafia kings and queen. They fell to the ground, bodies limp. 

The women in the crowd screamed, but the men looked on. Selena looked on. So. This was the man she was going to work for... She looked up at him, his gentlemanly facade hiding something dark and twisted. His tuxedo, monocle and top hat feeling more and more like a costume piece. Behind that hooked beak of a nose and those cruel thin lips...was a cold blooded dictator. And that dictator had found an opening. 

Champagne glasses were held up as Sofia Falcone, Micky Sullivan and Don Maroni bled out on the floor. A toast to the future was made. Gotham's mob...would never be the same. Selena found that fact to be utterly bone chilling and...thrilling all the same. 

"Aye, a toast to the future! A toast to the Penguin!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee, Penguin has made a bit of a name for himself now! 
> 
> Next Time: The Joker makes his first move, and Harley begins to try and seek him out.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, please make sure to let me know your thoughts in the comments and leave a kudo! It's a real motivation! Thank you for reading!


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